The Darth Mohawk Talkshow
by Professor Ken
Summary: Everyone's favorite money obsessed entrepreneur, the great Darth Mohawk, has finally gotten his own television program and is inviting Sonic and company for personal interviews! Will serious injury result? Maybe! But it shall be funny, and you will LAUGH!
1. Chapter 1

**I, Professor Ken, wholeheartedly welcome you to my newest epic! I fixed this up a while back as a consolation piece in case I couldn't finish another story on time. While the sequel to 'Silver Crescent' (if you like this you might want to read it, too) is still pending, you guys can just enjoy this instead. It's a pure-hearted comedy, plain and simple, written in my best humorous style (at least three good puns are guarenteed to each chapter). This isn't your average 'author-makes-fun-of- characters' story, though. Oh no, I really ridicule a much wider range of reality. **

**There is a little Tails-bashing in this chapter. But do not fear, good readers; justice shall be served! **

**I do not own Tails, or any of the other Sonic characters. Darth Mohawk belongs to my brother Tom (from whom he is caricatured). The professor, of course, is mine. **

**-- **

Broadcast One: Tails

On the set of a lonely broadcasting station on the outskirts of the small metropolitan area of Station Square, a single light flickered as a camera turned on. The curtain peeled open, revealing a dark form stooped over in the shadows of an unlit stage. The camera slowly zoomed in on it.

A voice crawled out from the shadows, a mere whisper. "_Yes… the time is right… the place is right… and all goes according to my evil, dastardly plan…_"

There was a sudden flash of light as all the lights in the entire studio went on. Casting away a long dark cloak, a crazy-looking man of about eighteen years old dressed in black robes and a blue cape gave a million-dollar smile to the camera. He had a perfect three-inch mohawk on his head and a large shiny gold coin hanging from a chain around his neck. "WEEEEEEELLCOME, ALL YOU LITTLE INGRATES, TO THE** DARTH MOHAWK TALKSHOW!**"

A catchy tune played as the man swaggered to the front of the stage. He snapped his fingers; a large plushy sofa fell down from the ceiling. He scowled. "No, no, no, not the sofa…" There was a flash of light; the sofa turned into a rocking chair. Then a cheesy-looking stool. Then a toilet. Looking rather peeved, the man mumbled some bad words and kicked the porcelain throne, whereupon it changed into a black leather chair. He smiled and plunked down in it.

"Alright! Now, I'm sure all of you people watching this—yeah, I mean you in front of the screen— are wondering 'who the heck is this square'? Well, I'm DARTH MOHAWK, the host of this show, the richest man on Mobius and also the greediest! You might know me better as the owner of the quadrillion-dollar industry called the Mohawk Mall Corporation! Actually, you've probably paid for this show out of your own pockets with your generous donations to the 'making-Mr.-Mohawk-really-really-rich' fund…" He leaned forward and grinned even wider. "Now with fourth-wall smashing capacities! But enough about that! This is the Darth Mohawk Talkshow, not the televised meeting of the Mohawk Corporations Board of Financing!"

He snapped his fingers and pointed at four guys in tuxedos sitting in the front row. "_Hey guys, I'll discuss this after the show ends_." He said to them in a stage whisper. They nodded, picked up their suitcases, and left.

Mohawk grinned again. "First of all, I'd like y'all to say hello to m'brother, Professor Ken, without whom I wouldn't be able to have this show!"

A person looking kind of like Mohawk but a little younger (about twelve years old) and a whole lot saner stepped out from the side of the stage and waved. Ken was dressed in a shiny white labcoat, green canvas boots with metal edges, and a pair of elliptical spectacles. He had shiny blue eyes that sparkled as he smiled and a small arsenal containing two pistols, a sword and a folded-up plasma axe that suggested a very light trigger finger. He vanished back to the side of the stage.

Seated in his big black leather chair, Mohawk grinned like the lunatic he was. "And guess what? I've invited an extra-special guest today! Everybody knows who he is, and everybody… well, almost everybody, there's a couple old grouchy people who don't… loves him! He may be kinda gullible and he almost always requires his friends to bail him out when he gets himself in trouble, but he's a great guy nonetheless and we all appreciate his efforts! Give it up for…_TAILS?!?_"

Tails walked onscreen, smiling and waving to the crowds shyly (the crowd seemed to love it and he got a huge encore). Darth Mohawk wasn't quite so happy. "_**KEEEEEEEENNNN!**_"

There was a flash of light and the good professor appeared. "Yes?"

"What's the big idea?! I thought I was having _SONIC_ on this show!?!" bellowed the irate businessman.

"Unfortunately, Sonic was evidently going on another one of his little 'vacations' and thirty-four K-7b probe droids couldn't find him, it was ten minutes to the show's start and Tails was right there in his workshop and happy to oblige—"

"BUT I JUST READ ALL THAT CRAP ABOUT HIM!!!"

"It's not crap. It's true." Ken crossed his arms. "Everybody knows Tails, he has a massive fan following and only a few old grouchy people – like you – don't like him. He has a tendency to be gullible, as you might recall during SA2B, and gets captured a lot."

Mohawk looked ready to explode. "_Did you just call me an old grouchy person?_"

Ken sighed and shook his head sadly. "Yes. Now, unless you want to be voraciously devoured by all of the Tails fans in this studio—they take up about half the crowd, right off to stage left – I highly suggest that you be as kind and gentle as you can manage. Knowing you, that's nigh impossible so I'll just set up my medical equipment offstage. You haven't developed any serious medical conditions like hepatitis or anything, right?"

"Uh, no?"

"Good." Ken vanished with his customary flash of light.

"_Mmmrgfrgrmgrfprr_…" Mohawk seethed with anger for a good couple of seconds. When he finally calmed down enough to speak to Tails, he took a deep breath, then said, "Okay. My first question is an easy one: How old are you, Miles?"

"Eight and a couple months," replied the fox. He fidgeted. "And please, it's Tails."

After muttering a wayward comment under his breath, he continued with, "How long have you been living with Sonic?"

"Uh, four years, I think. It's been a while."

"And why aren't you living with your parents, Miles?"

"It's Tails," corrected the fox softly, looking uncomfortable. "I think they died a while ago, I don't know how and I never really found out…"

"How did you get to fly planes when you're only eight years old?"

Tails smiled sheepishly. "Eh hehe… I just do, I guess… but I know how and all, so I'm good! Us world heroes can do whatever we want!" He grinned.

"Why do you hang out with Sonic so much instead of other smart, sciency people?"

"Uh… because it's fun?" said Tails. "I don't really know any smart people other than myself. Besides, Sonic's cool and he likes me and all!"

"Yeah, yeah, like any of us believe that," mumbled Mohawk. "So! Why do you have two tails? It makes you look like a freak!"

Tails winced at his words. "Hey! Don't call me that!"

Mohawk smirked. "Okay, okay, I will try to refrain. But I will say this! So what's up with your name, _Miles Prower_?"

"Wha, uh, hey, don't say—" stammered Tails.

"Miles Prower! I mean, what kind of freaky name is that?! It's like, it's a good thing you don't have a sister, I'd hate to see what Kilometers Prower would look like!" He laughed uproariously.

There was an evil, grindy, leery sound from part of the audience and a large quantity of people shifted forwards in their seats menacingly. Mohawk paused and looked out into them nervously. He gulped, grabbed a pitcher of water and tipped its entire contents down his throat. When it was empty, he tossed it aside, where it landed on an unlucky audience member and broke with a smash. "Uh, so, what marvelous inventions are you working on right now?"

"I'm making a compact dual-layer plasma shield!" said Tails proudly. "It's an improved shield for the Tornado." He frowned. "It's really hard… I'm not very far along on it."

"So when you think you'll be done with it, Miles?"

Tails flinched at the name but said, "I dunno, it might be a while."

Mohawk looked into the crowds and saw they had quieted a little. He smirked. "So, Miles… you got any girlfriends?"

Tails smiled sheepishly. "Heh heh… no, not really…"

"And what about this crap I keep hearing about you and Cream, huh?"

"She's a good friend but not in that way," said Tails confidently.

Mohawk continued his pursuit of information. "What about Cosmo, that green plant-girl? She doesn't count, huh?"

Tails paled slightly. "No! We're just… friends, that's all…"

"Friends, eh?" Mohawk leaned forward in his chair, a maniacal grin on his face like a shark closing in for the kill. "Just friends? That's all?"

Tails nodded but he looked kind of shaken. "Yeah, kinda…"

"Well, I hear from the grapevine that you're a little closer than that… might I say, you got a few… singles?"

Tails turned slightly pink. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Oh, you know, I just heard it… somewhere…" He cackled. "So, I'll bet you liked that, huh?"

Tails was by now bright red. "Hey! St-stop it! That's really, really private!"

"It's just sad…" Mohawk _tsk_ed. "I mean, you're already to the making-out phase and you're not even in the same animal kingdom!"

"Shut up! _Stop_ it!"

Mohawk just went right on. "Yeah, you freaks go together… my god, what kind of kids are you two gonna have, huh? Hey, Ken, come in here, you're the area expert on crossbreeding…"

Tails kicked Darth Mohawk sharply in the shin. The rich entrepreneur let out a yelp of pain, jumped off his comfy leather armchair, and bounced about while letting fly curses that made the first three rows cover their ears. Rubbing his shin painfully, he sat back down. "Okay. So, getting away from that _and __suing your scrawny little namesakes off after show_, I have with me here the script for the third season of Sonic X…" He pulled up a thick packet of papers and thumbed through it. "Let's see… Episode 77, my personal favorite… ooh, yeah, my favorite part of it, right here." Mohawk turned the script around. "You remember the part where you have to launch her off into oblivion, right?"

"Aak! Hey, stop reading that!" Tails cried.

"So how'd it feel killing your girlfriend off? I mean, that's gotta be the crappiest thing to do, ever!"

Tails looked mortified. "Hey, I had no choice! It was that or let the universe be turned into a big forest!"

Mohawk was very much getting into the act, putting on a straight face. "Yeah, I know you liked her, obviously not enough though…" He sighed. "If you wanted to dump her for Cream you should have just said so."

"I didn't, I mean, I-I don't! Stop it!"

"Yep, you've got a cruel streak in you, Tails, blasting away a girl you don't want anymore… man, you make Robotnik look nice!"

Tails suddenly burst out bawling. "I didn't… I didn't mean it, Cosmo…"

"Aww, too late for that, she already knows…" Mohawk sniggered. "Oh, well, at least she's just a potted plant now, maybe she'll forgive you for it…"

Suddenly, Ken hopped up on stage. "Hey, what's going on up here? Why are you tormenting Tails so much?" The professor walked over to the fox and nudged his shoulder. "Hey, hey, calm down, Tails, it's just Darth Mohawk's big fat mouth and his little squinty brain aren't coordinating right, nobody's gonna listen to him, especially not Cosmo, I can promise you that…" Turning back to Mohawk, he shot a mean scowl and hissed, "_Mohawk, why are you doing this even after I've warned you not to, it just isn't SAFE?!?_"

Darth Mohawk scowled. "_Fox fan…_" he muttered under his breathe before snapping "Because he looks so adorable when he's miserable!" He then leaned backwards and laughed maniacally. "Mwah ha ha ha!"

Ken whistled loudly. "Hey! Tails fans! This guy hates Tails!"

There was a huge roar from the crowd as an entire wing of the audience rose up and dragged Darth Mohawk off the stage. There were loud noises and screams as they proceeded to beat the assorted loose change out of him.

"I STILL MEAN IT!! AH! OH! NO, NOT THE PENNIES!! GIVE MY WALLET BACK!**GRAAAAAAAHHH**!!!" screamed Mohawk as the crowd dragged him away and caused him great bodily harm.

"This has been the first episode of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow," said Ken, pulling a microphone out from somewhere. "Join us again next week, provided Mohawk survives of course, for another round of healthy criticism of one of our guest stars!"

"AH! AH! I STILL HATE TAILS! HIS VOICE IS SO SQUEAKY IN SONIC HEROES! KEN OVERUSES HIM IN HIS STORIES! ARGH! HE'S A GULIBLE IMBECILE AND—"

A surprisingly strong fan lifted Mohawk into the air and hurled him overhand. He crashed into the computer screen before finally falling from view, leaving scattered low-denomination bills floating in the air.

--

**Did you like this story? Did you not? If so, what was wrong? Please review, or send me an e-mail. But do be polite and kind about it, please, because I would be to you. I shall answer questions in a timely manner and I update semi-weekly on Tuesdays, time allowing. Want more before then? Check out my other story!**


	2. Chapter 2

Welcome back, readers! This is the second chapter of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. As you can see, the interviewee for this episode is Knuckles the Echidna. There is only some very light Knuckles-bashing in this chapter, and a lot of Mohawk-bashing (literally bashing, of course) to make up for it. Now, I the good Professor personally hold nothing against Knuckles. But my character doesn't really like him that much. It's an inside joke of sorts; the characters I have appear on the show are very canonical and do not appear as they do in my stories (too good a chance of ruining plot details anyways), which though disappointing for some of my readers who like my portrayals of characters is really more appropriate for a story of this genre.

I do not own Knuckles. Or Tails. Or the Master Emerald (I sure wish I did though) or any other thing in this story that might be copyrighted by Sonic Team/Sega/Nintendo. Professor Ken is my character. Darth Mohawk belongs to my brother. And I think this story is nifty. Now, onto the main attraction...

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Broadcast Two: Knuckles

Darth Mohawk slowly hobbled onto the stage. Apparently the Tails fans had done quite a number on him; he had several heavy casts, bruises and bandages. He lumbered over to his chair, umphing and oomphing all the way.

Mohawk suddenly paused. "Wait. Why was I doing that again?" He pitched the whole getup off and into the crowds. "Ha! Take that, you lame fox fans!" He made a rude hand gesture.

There was an ominous growl from a certain sector of the crowd, as well as a few malevolent _clicks_ and readying of weapons.

"…Okay, fine. I had my fun last episode." Mohawk stuck his tongue out at them. He took a deep breath, then said, "Okay, welcome back to the Darth Mohawk Talkshow! For today's guest, I'm inviting a special friend. He's rude, crude, and Ken almost always gets into a scuffle with him whenever the two spend any time together and sometimes beats the wise-guy up pretty badly, which is the only reason I'm inviting you back on the set today—" Mohawk glared at Ken, who was leaning comfortably against the wall right behind the curtain, "—so give it up for KNUCKLES THE ECHIDNA!!"

A rumbling sound filled the air. After three seconds, a hole appeared in the floorboards and Knuckles burst out of it. He hauled himself up, and sat down in a chair which Mohawk supplied to him.

"So, Knuckles, first question of all: uh, how did we convince you to stop guarding the M.E. and come over here?"

"I finally figured out how to set it to 'fry-on-contact' so if Eggman tries to steal it he'll be zapped."

"Here's something that's been bugging me on and off for several years: Why do you spend all your time up there on Angel Island being a misanthrope while staring at a rather mundane green piece of rock?"

Knuckles got up and looked like he was going to pick Mohawk up and throttle him.

"I mean, why do you have to watch the Master Emerald all the time?" amended Mohawk hastily.

Knuckles sat back down. "Because it's my duty to," he said shortly.

"Duty? Uh huh… and your ancestors have been doing this 'duty' for how long again?"

"About four thousand years," reported Knuckles flatly.

"Okay, next question. Are there any, you know, other echidnas on Angel Island?" asked Mohawk.

"Sorry, no dice," said Knuckles.

"So you must be pretty lonely on Angel Island, without anybody around or anything."

"No, I'm never lonely." Knuckles rolled his eyes. "Rouge always shows up pretty often to try to swipe the Master Emerald when she thinks I'm distracted."

"Oh. So, all the fans are wondering after SA2B… do you like Rouge?"

"I like sparring with her and she can be nice to hang out with but no, I don't like Rouge," said Knuckles flatly. "We're fighting buddies, not romantics."

"And you know where this is leading… what about Tikal then, huh? Do you like her?"

"Umm, I barely even know Tikal," said Knuckles, looking somewhat surprised. "I've seen her about four times in my whole life and she's never even really spoken directly to me. I don't think it's a question of me being interested in her rather than it being a question of me never seeing her."

"Well, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rank—"

"Question mark," said Knuckles flatly. "I've never seen another female echidna to compare her to so I can't fairly rate her."

"Not even your mother?"

"Echidnas hatch from eggs. I never knew my mother."

"Whoa…" Mohawk's expression was blank. "Man, that says a lot… hey, brother! I got a question for ya!"

Professor Ken poked his head in from the side of the stage. "Hmm?"

"If Knuckles was born alone and never saw another person for the better part of his childhood in what ways would he be messed up by it?"

"If Knuckles was a human he would be incapable of speaking or thinking cohesively since humans require some sort of visual input during childhood on how civilization works," said Ken. "But Knuckles is an echidna, which naturally means that the case is different."

"Why would it be different from anybody else's?"

"Because humans and anthropomorphics have different societies," said Ken flatly, as though what he was saying was common knowledge. "Humans are sociable mammals naturally geared towards mutual cooperation, while echidnas are simply born with that sort of knowledge. Now I may not have a doctor's degree in echidna psychology but I can assure you that Knuckles is mentally sound. Well…" Ken frowned. "For an echidna he's perfectly normal. However, as a person in general he's not quite to the same standards." Not seeing another complain from Mohawk, he ducked back off the stage.

Knuckles crossed his arms. "Okay then. Now that your smart friend over there has flattened your attempt to make me look wrong in the head, what's your next question?"

"Okay. So…" Mohawk pulled out a handful of cue cards, checked them, and then continued, "What do you do in your spare time?"

"What spare time? I watch the Master Emerald 24-7."

"No, no, what do you do when you're not fighting someone to protect it? You can't possible just sit there in front of it staring at it vacantly all the time."

"_Ohhh_, you mean when I'm not busy with my job. Well, this is a bit of a secret but I don't need to be near the Master Emerald to guard it, just somewhere on the island. I fish, search for food, collect treasure, and explore the island. I know the place like the back of my hand."

"How long would it take you to get back to the altar if someone attacked it?"

"Five and a half seconds; three if Rouge is involved."

"What's your general opinion of Eggman?"

"He'd be a lot better off if he stopped wasting his time trying to steal the Master Emerald every time he comes up with a new plan for world domination. I still haven't figured out why an IQ-300 genius like him can't put together a half-decent plan to save his life…"

Mohawk paused, riffling through a set of cue cards. Eventually he gave up and chucked them aside. "What on Mobius possessed you to build a carnival on an island you'd rather no one entered?"

Knuckles chuckled. "That was one of by more brilliant ideas. I knew that if I could lure unwanted visitors into the carnival, they'd spend so much of their time and money trying to win at the games there that they would forget to look around for the Master Emerald. And in the meantime, of course, I would earn a bunch of money."

Mohawk suddenly looked around. "Money? _Wherewherewhere_?!" he said, but when no money appeared, he mumbled a curse under his breath and sat silently for a moment. After a few seconds, his eyes brightened, and he asked, "So Knuckles, how is it that an echidna of your intellect can be so easily fooled by a stupid, fat dictator-wannabe?"

Knuckles looked visibly annoyed. "Eggman doesn't have an IQ of 300 for nothing, you know," he said irritably.

"But he always uses the same tricks! Surely you should have caught onto them by now?"

"For your information, I take all threats to the Master Emerald _seriously_ regardless of where they are coming from!" snapped Knuckles. "Besides, isn't Eggman always letting slip the secrets to his own destruction all the time anyways?"

"Umm, not to you he isn't," said Darth Mohawk. He sighed. "Well, I guess that proves once and for all that watching an oversized Chaos Emerald for your entire miserable little life leads to excessive paranoia and gullibility."

"_WHAT?!?_" roared Knuckles, hopping up onto his feet.

Mohawk grinned sheepishly. "Time to go," he said quickly, jumping out of his chair and running towards the side of the stage.

Knuckles chased after him, looking as angry as heck. "Paranoia and gullibility?!? When I catch up with you I am going to rip your…"

Angry beating-the-crud-out-of noises came from offstage. Ken hopped back out and said, "This has been the second delightful episode of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. Please log in next week to—"

There was a loud _wham_ like large objects being uprooted and thrown about from backstage, causing the professor to flinch. He then continued, "—Have more of the same, with maybe not as much Mohawk crud-out-of-beating."

There were some more loud mashing sounds. Darth Mohawk went soaring across the stage, crashing through a hole in the ceiling and once again slamming violently against the computer screen.

--

You like? Then keep reading this story (I update semi-weekly, schedule allowing) and please review.


	3. Chapter 3

**Greetings, readers! And welcome back to the third installment of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow! Before I get started with my usual jawing and speaking, I would like to thank Pyrota Rexus, ShadowlovesRouge, and Cooldude Num.1 for their lovely reviews of my story (I know that at least three people like what I'm writing here, which means a lot to me). I would also like to thank Darth Mohawk for his reviews and for not beating the crud out of me even when I have had it beaten out of him on several occassions. Now onto the normal schpeil: this chapter does NOT have any Sonic-bashing in it, in particular, though other kinds of bashings are implied. Mohawk-bashing, though... what do YOU think?**

**I do not own Sonic, Tails, or any of these other wonderful characters. Darth Mohawk belongs to my brother, Darth Mohawk, and the good Professor is, of course, mine. We have so far engaged in one catburglary attempt at stealing the copyrights for the other characters, but alas, they had machinegun-equipped lawyers waiting for us on the roof.**

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Broadcast Three: Sonic

Darth Mohawk sat in his usual chair, combing through a particularly stubborn patch of hair on his otherwise perfect mohawk and applying copious amounts of hair gel in an attempt to make it stick up correctly. After struggling for a few more seconds, he finally managed to tease it into place. Pitching the comb and bottle offscreen, he looked back to the camera and beamed.

"Hello, all of my adoring fans! Welcome back to the Darth Mohawk Talkshow! Now, after about three weeks of searching, several busted-up probe droids and a lot of bad words from both Ken and myself, we have finally coerced the great Sonic the Hedgehog himself, mascot of the famous—but sadly deceased— video game company Sega, to join us on this little show! We have also announced that we will attempt to keep the Mohawk crud-out-of-beating to a minimum from here on in because my medical bills are too high and my dang Physic staff is beginning to wear thin. If any occurs, though, we will be sure to televise it nice and proper though for all you messed-up Mohawk-hating perverts who like seeing me getting the ever-loving snot kicked out of me before I Foresight into the screen." He gave the thumbs-up and winked. "But until any of the aforementioned activities take place, allow me to introduce to you: Sonic!"

Mohawk motioned to the right of the screen. However, nothing appeared.

There was a sudden extremely loud blast that nearly broke all of the cameras. When they fizzled back on Sonic the Hedgehog stood on the stage about three feet away from Mohawk, giving his usual crowd-pleasing grin.

Darth Mohawk, looking dazed and attempting to stop the loud ringing in his ears, murmured something incohesive, followed shortly after by "have a seat". A big leather chair like Mohawk's appeared, although tipped onto its side. Sonic frowned, righted it, and sat down.

The rich entrepreneur sighed. "Okay, I'm good. So, Sonic… what the **[feep** was _THAT_ for?!?"

The hedgehog grinned, Mohawk-style. "You said you wanted a show, so I gave you one!"

"Yeah, well, next time could you please _warn_ us before you break the sound barrier? Hey, Ken!"

The professor, clutching a pair of noise-dampening headphones, poked his head out from the side of the stage. "Yes?"

"Did we lose anything?"

"No, we're still in operation."

"Whew, this stuff all cost a fortune. Returning to the task at hand. The big question you know we're gonna ask: how fast, exactly, is _fast_?"

Sonic leaned back and looked comfortable. "About Mach 2."

"Uh huh. And my brother Ken here claims that he gets like four and a half in his big rocket-plane, the Blizzard. Your response…?"

"Hey, hey, don't get me wrong, there's technology that's faster than me but you seem to forget that I claim to be the fastest thing _alive_. Ken's plane isn't. Besides…" Sonic smirked. "I don't think he can claim that he gets about three thousand miles to the chili dog."

Mohawk laughed. "HA! TAKE **THAT**, KEN! SEE WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, HUH?"

Ken scowled. "Simpletons," he mumbled, ducking back offstage.

"Ten to one he's out to either disprove you or get even with me." Mohawk pulled out his cue cards again. "Okay, next question. I'm sure that you're real popular with the ladies and all but do you actually _have_ a girlfriend?"

Sonic laughed. "Heck no! Girlfriends would just slow me down, man! Plus I'd make about fifteen million really cute hedgehogs jealous back at home. You know, some day I'll probably want the attention and start getting hooked up but nah, for now I've got better things to be doing."

"Naturally, got to give 'em all a fair chance…" Mohawk flipped through his cards. "So, how did you find Tails?"

"I picked him up in Green Hill Zone about four years ago because he looked kinda lonely and he didn't have any parents," said Sonic. "Having two tails was a little odd but the kid was nice so I let him tag along with me."

"And so begins the story of the cutest sidekick in existence." Mohawk made a face. "Bleh. Okay, so, just because I feel mean today, what's the worst thing you've ever seen Tails do?"

"That depends," said Sonic thoughtfully. "He once started bawling because he thought I didn't like him and I had to give him about twenty reasons to why I still did. That is what I'd say was the worst, he was pretty freaked out there. But the worst thing I've ever really _caught_ him doing was walking in on him and Cosmo when the two were alone together on the X Typhoon, he didn't hear me coming but he nearly bit my head off when I asked him why he was kissing her…"

There was a cumulative '_awwwww'_ from a certain part of the audience. Darth Mohawk made a face, turned, and pretended to get violently sick over the arm of his chair. He then sat back up. "So… that's _it_? Just that? Oh, come _on_, I got worse than that from the probe droid Ken had stationed over the kid's head! So, does he have any mortal fears?"

"Tails is usually scared stiff by thunderstorms," said Sonic. "He won't fly anything or even really go outside during them. Oh, and you can scare the life out of him with a half-decent ghost story."

"Right, right," said Mohawk, scribbling fiercely into a notepad. "Okay, enough ammunition for Tails-bashing later on, back to the main topic of choice…" He put the notepad away and pulled out his cue cards. "Okay, so, what's your relationship to Eggman? Is all this crap we hear about your speed and his, eh, insanity being linked true or what?"

"Umm… innocent bystander?" Sonic frowned. "Yeah, I was involved with him a little, you know, he lived just up the street and he seemed like a decent guy when I first saw him. He wanted a subject and I wanted something to do in my spare time, and I think he must've hit his head wrong or something one day, I dunno."

"Oh, so it's true that he made you so fast, but did you actually cause his insanity and vows for world-domination?"

"He did _that_ on his own," said Sonic flatly. "No idea how; it's still open for controversy. A lot of people claim that, as you suggested, I tripped him into some half-built contraption and he went bad right then and there but that's all bull. Personally I think he just got sick of current affairs and decided he could run the world better and we all know how that went. Eggman just up and vanished one day and when I next saw him he was quite clearly in the world-conquering business."

"And so the legend was born?"

"Yep, pretty much."

Darth Mohawk paused to flip to his next card. "So, as I'm sure you've noticed, Sega/Nintendo makes you a little taller and a little slimmer every time they put you in a new game. Your thoughts on that…?"

Sonic laughed. "That's a combination of two things—one, seriously improving video game graphics allow and require for it and two, if ya think about it I am technically getting older and when you get older you get taller!"

"So you like the transformations."

"Hey, bigger body means longer legs and that equals more speed, man! Besides, they've stretched me out to pretty near my feasible maximum and I'm not gonna get much taller at this point. And if you look sharp, they haven't really made me all that much taller, most humans still have a good two feet over me anyways."

"An excellent point. So, you've had several television programs during your long and lustrous career. Now I know it's _such_ a tough decision but which one was your favorite?"

"Sonic X," said Sonic without blinking. "I looked the coolest in it, plus I got to meet some new folks. I really think that—"

"Before you continue," interrupted Mohawk, "Nothing against the show—I personally thought it was nifty-- but I despise that idiot _Chris Thorndyke_—" He spat the words out as if they tasted terrible "—from aforementioned program even _more_ than I do Tails and if you so much as mention him I will cause you serious bodily harm."

"You're not very nice, are you now?" asked Sonic, raising an eye ridge.

"Nope. 'Nice' doesn't market very well."

"Well, it's the only one that follows the plot of the Sonic Adventure series, plus it did get in some good original material too."

"Yeah, I know about _that_, m'brother Ken is constantly nicking stuff from that show for his stories."

"So, is that all?" asked Sonic.

"That's all of the main points," said Darth Mohawk.

The hedgehog grinned. "Good. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

This time, the sonic boom _did_ take out the cameras. From a fizzled screen that nobody could see anything on, Ken said, "This has been the third episode of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. Due to the fact that all of our main cameras just got totaled, you can't see it but Mohawk actually did _not_ get the crud beaten out of him. However, he is cussing a blue streak and hopping around really angrily, it's a good thing you can't see it because this is without a doubt unairable…"

--

**That's all for today, folks. See y'all next update. Please review; even if you can't make suggestions just telling me something you liked is helpful.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Greetings, readers and fans! This is the fourth installment of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow! Today, we're just doing Amy, but have no fear, I am definitely NOT running short of characters! To the contrary; we haven't even gotten to the really good ones yet! (They're the next two chapters, respectively. But this one's pretty good too, I meet my 'three-or-more-laughs' quota as nicely as ever.) I do not have much else to say here, _sans _the disclaimer, so continue on!**

**I do not own Sonic, Amy, Mobius, blah blah blah, you get the idea. The professor is mine, Mohawk is my brother's and on loan to me, and the copyright lawyers have us bogged down in trench warfare over legal rights, so no go... _yet_. **

--

Broadcast Four: Amy

Mohawk was seated with the members of his board, apparently discussing the finances of his company with the advisors.

"…so we need to get our profit margins up, and find some way to minimize the spoilage of our frozen foods," Mohawk was saying. "And of course we always need to consider…" He looked at his watch. "Oh dang, _we're on?!?_ Sorry guys, but this meeting is adjourned, we'll finish at the end of the show!" Mohawk hastily stood up and ushered his board offstage. The board members quickly grabbed their suitcases, and one man picked up a ridiculously large green bowler hat before they all exited stage right.

When all of the officials had left the area, Mohawk threw the table offstage to the right and shouted, "GREEEEEETINGS, ALL MY MORONS! AND WELCOME BACK TO THE **DARTH MOHAWK TALKSHOW!!!!**" He paused to take a breath, then picked up several of the extra chairs and tossed them offstage. "Today's guest is another old character from this series, who's been around since _Sonic CD_ but hasn't changed that much since Sega revamped her for use in _Sonic Adventure_. Allow me to introduce the most Sonic-fascinated person in the whole universe… AMY ROOOOOSE!!"

Amy Rose walked onstage from the right, waving and blowing kisses at the crowd. For some reason, about five percent of the crowd responded to these come-ons with loud cheering, and everyone else clapped politely. She eventually took her seat, whereupon the cheering and clapping stopped.

"So Amy," Mohawk said as he fished out a stack of cards, "there's one thing I'm _dying_ to ask, where on earth do you keep that huge hammer of yours?"

"In midair," Amy replied, and to illustrate her point she reached into midair and removed the gigantonormous Piko Piko Hammer.

"Yeah, we all figured as much. And, of course, the question that is most obvious for me to ask, why are you so obsessed with Sonic?"

"The creators made me that way. Besides, it's fun! You don't know how many of my gal pals would love to be able to ditch any chance at a regular, boring life they had to chase down their love object forever and ever!"

"I see your eyes have lit up with an inner fervor that can only mean you are determined to capture your love object at all costs," said Mohawk, shedding a false tear. "Or maybe you have an undiagnosed case of acute dementia. Ken! We need you to make another psychological diagnosis!"

Ken peered in from the edge of the stage. "What, for Amy? Well, that depends on your interpretation. If you assume that she's so insistent on chasing after Sonic, pinning him in place and forcing him to marry her, then she is definitely a little odd in her methods in that respect. Uh… gimme a minute here." He ducked back offstage.

Mohawk grinned. "So, now officially convinced that you have a psychological problem, how long do you think it's gonna take the whitecoats to get here if Ken places the call right now?"

The professor reappeared at the edge of the stage. "No, no, I've double-checked my books and it's actually a reasonable proposition. This would not be normal if Amy was older but she is after all a teenager and most girls of that age have idols with whom they are fascinated, hmm?"

"Stop ruining my fun with the sciences, Ken! Okay, now…" Mohawk flipped through his cards. "How old are you again?"

"One year less than Sonic."

"Umm… so you're fourteen?"

"Yeah! I know I'm young to be getting married but I figure I'll catch up to Sonic by the time I'm eighteen!"

"Such youthful innocence," mumbled Mohawk. "Okay, so, I seem to recall you mistaking Shadow for Sonic back in SA2B. And, uh, what in the world possessed you to do that? Isn't red and black kind of easy to tell apart from blue?"

"I didn't see the red stripes and blue and black do look similar when you've got the sun in your face."

"Oh, yeah. And do you like Shadow?"

"No! He's too depressing and violent, and he looks like he wants to rip my arms off if I so much as look at him for too long!"

"So would I," grumbled Mohawk. "Okay, so, what would you say if I could arrange for you two to go on a date?"

"How much money would you charge for that?" asked Amy flatly.

"Ooh, I am known too well. I'll discuss terms of the Darth Mohawk Dating Service after the show. So what do you do when you're not chasing Sonic?"

"I shop!" said Amy proudly. "Oh, and sometimes I go hang out with my friends at the mall. You know, girl stuff."

"Very profitable girl stuff," said Mohawk, rubbing his hands together greedily. "And you shop at _my_ mall, right?"

"Most of the time," said Amy, "But sometimes I get bored of it and—"

Mohawk nearly jumped out of his chair. "YOU _**WHAAAATT**_** HOW CAN ANYONE GET BORED OF THE MOHAWK MALL?!?!? I PUT EVERY KIND OF STORE **_**IMAGINABLE**_** IN THERE AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT YOU FIND IT **_**BORING**__** WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU**_"

Amy crossed hr arms, apparently not so much as ruffled at the fact that Mohawk just screamed at her. "It's the same old stuff! The mall always looks the same and I get tired of it!"

Darth Mohawk pulled a walkie-talkie from within his robes. "_Customers complaining about building being boring! Code 56! Code 56! Renovate the mall!_" Stuffing the device back into his pocket, he then returned to the conversation at hand. "Okay, we're on to it. So, what would you do if I told you that your 'boyfriend' was just here a week ago?"

"He WAS? Which way did he go?"

"I don't know, he took out all the cameras when he left," grumbled Mohawk. He then grinned again. "And what's your favorite food?"

Amy considered this. "Umm… oh, gosh… cake, I guess… I'll eat pretty much anything…"

"And why are you such a putz?"

"Whaddya mean I'm a putz?" snapped Amy.

"Umm, you're obviously pretty mental even with everything Ken said and I seriously think that—"

At that exact moment Amy clobbered him with her hammer. Darth Mohawk was hammered down about a foot and a half into his chair and had apparently gotten stuck in it. "Hey! Lemme out of here!" He thrashed around, attempting to free himself. After a few moments he growled, split the chair in half and finally broke free of it. "And as I was saying, you're clearly obsessed with Sonic even though he hates your guts—"

"Sonic does NOT hate my guts! He DOES love me!" yelled Amy. She rose up her hammer for another strike. Darth Mohawk, seeing that he was about to be pile-driven into the floorboards, immediately excused himself from the stage. Amy dashed after him and there was a loud _WHAM_ offstage. There was a flash of color across the camera screen as Darth Mohawk sailed out of the studio screaming loudly, bashing yet another hole in the roof of the studio as he exited in a vast trajectory. Ken popped back up on stage and said, "This has been the fourth episode of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. Please join us again next week or whenever Mohawk is next available from the hospital after he…"

There was a sudden _crash_ as Darth Mohawk fell down from the sky, landing on the professor and clobbering him beneath his bulk. The camera winked out shortly thereafter.

--

**You like? Good (and my apologies if you don't). I appreciate reviews; even just telling me what you liked is helpful, since I'll know what seems to work with you people, but criticism is of course the best if you have some serious suggestion to how I can improve my writings. Now, as concerning serious qualms (i.e. plot suggestions, major inadequacies in the story, additions of OCs and new and seperate episodes), the importance and extensiveness of these means I will wish to discuss them in private. My email address is listed in my profile, send me a message and check your box for the reply in a day or two. See you all later; professor checking out.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Greetings, fair reader, and merry Christmas (or Hannukah, or whatever you worship in and around December 25th). This particular episode is one of my personal favorites-- the Shadow episode. Views expressed by Darth Mohawk do belong to my brother but are not necessarily mine. Views expressed by myself (Professor Ken) are probably mine. Into the disclaimer and onto the show!**

**I do not own Shadow, Sonic, anybody cool, etc. I do own Professor Ken, and Darth Mohawk is on loan from my brother, named the same. Ownerships previously mentioned are not likely to change... at least, not yet.**

--

**Broadcast Five: Shadow**

Seated in a brand-new black leather chair, Darth Mohawk beamed and made an irritating slurping sound as he drank from a large mug of undisclosed liquid. "GREEEETINGS all of you—"_ sliiirk_ "—wonderful people and—" _suuuuck_ "—welcome back to the—" _sluuuuuuurrrr—_

A large black boot flew in from the audience and hit Darth Mohawk in the head, causing him to both pause and spill his beverage everywhere. "HEY! That drink cost me four bucks!" he yelled, throwing the boot back at the person in the audience (whom he struck across the face and knocked unconscious). Lacing his face once more with a wide smile as the stains magically vanished from his clothes, Darth Mohawk said, "Yeah, so back to the Mohawk Talkshow again. Today we're inviting a _veeerry_ special person. I'd say a whole bunch of nice stuff about him but I'm afraid he'd take it wrong and vaporize my head for annoying him. It's… _SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG!!!_"

There was a brilliant flash of light. Shadow Chaos Controlled onstage, toying with a Chaos Emerald in his hands. Darth Mohawk grinned broadly and made a black leather chair appear for him. Shadow looked at the chair disdainfully. Mohawk smirked and snapped his fingers; red stripes appeared on the chair. Shadow sat down with a somewhat cheerful 'hmph' before returning his expression to a scowl.

"So, Shadow, first order of business…" Mohawk paused and grinned like a lunatic. "OH MY GAWD, YOU'RE LIKE MY FRIGGIN' IDOL! I AM _SUCH_ A BIG FAN OF YOUR WORKS!" He knelt at Shadow's feet. "I am not worthy, I am not worthy…"

Shadow looked shocked and somewhat sickened. "Umm… stop that. Please. It's weird."

"Whatever you say, my lord." Darth Mohawk sat back in his chair, grinning broadly. "Okay, so, everybody knows you're the grumpiest, surliest character in the whole universe…"

Shadow grimaced and harrumphed.

"…But how are you so unobtainably AWESOME?!?"

The black hedgehog sighed, brushing back the spines on the back of his head. "You have to be born with it," he said.

"And why are you so, well… might I say 'rough'?"

"Because I'm always serious, unlike you clowns," said Shadow, crossing his arms.

"And you never smile?"

"Does this face look like it smiles?" growled Shadow.

"Not even once?"

"Very seldom," said Shadow in a grave tone. "Next question."

"Okay. So, how do you run so fast?"

"Jet shoes." Shadow pointed at his footwear. "Useful tools, to be sure. I'm not really as fast as Sonic but I don't need to be. Cool people don't move fast, but we move… _powerfully_."

"But you're stronger than Sonic, right?"

"Allow me to demonstrate," said Shadow, revving back his arm to knock Mohawk unconscious.

"Oh GOD no!" said Mohawk rapidly, recoiling in fear.

Shadow slumped back in his chair, crossed his arms, and generally looked awesome. "Hmph. Pathetic human..."

Mohawk recovered his composure and continued. "And you _are_ the Ultimate Life Form, right? Not Metal Sonic or the Biolizard or nothing, but _you're_ the Ultimate Life Form?"

Shadow sent him a glare that would freeze molten rock.

"It's just a question," squeaked Mohawk, visibly afraid.

"…Yes," said Shadow menacingly. "Anyone want to challenge that?"

There was absolute silence for the next five seconds. A cricket chirped offstage.

"Good." Shadow slumped back in his chair.

"So, any chicks yet?" asked Mohawk, rebounding quickly.

Shadow laughed in a bone-chilling manner. "All of them. Everyone loves Shadow. I'm like a chick magnet. I've got the body, the moves, the words, and the awesomeness. Yes, my life is good."

"What about Maria? Haven't forgotten about her, right?"

"Maria…" Shadow scowled. "Of course not. I could never forget Maria."

"Yeah, that's what Ken said about you. So, are you a good guy or a bad guy? Seriously. I mean, if you're a bad guy then why aren't you ruling the world?"

"I'm neither." Shadow crossed his arms again. "I don't like taking sides, just whatever looks best to me. If I'm a good guy I get government bonuses and games that proclaim my awesomeness. If I'm bad then I get to conquer stuff but I also get games that I get beat up in as some rube's lackey. So I usually stay with the good side, because I can't have the kids of these days go without my awesomeness in their video games."

"Ya really liked _Shadow the Hedgehog_, don't'cha?"

Shadow smirked. "Greatest game ever."

"I thought the same. So, you're different from the other characters in that you so willingly use weapons, especially firearms, which you steal from people you beat up and/or kill. What's up with that?"

"The others are all such goody-goody two-shoes they don't understand the fine art of weaponry," said Shadow. "But I do, so I use them. Simple as that."

"Yeah, yeah, you cool," said Mohawk, grinning and nodding in an automated, transfixed manner. "What's your favorite weapon?"

"The Shadow Rifle," said the black hedgehog, procuring a spiny-looking black gun from somewhere. "It suits my needs."

"And how does the, uh, one-shot kill Shadow Rifle obtain that one-shot kill power?" asked Mohawk.

"It shoots miniaturized Chaos Spears," called Ken from the side of the stage. "Either that or sniper rifle rounds, we can't be sure."

"So how old are you? Exactly?"

Shadow gave him a hard look. "Older than you, that's for sure."

"No use hiding it, we all know you're like fifty years old. Oh, _oh_, it all suddenly makes sense now: you're so mean because you're just a crabby old geezer, right?"

Shadow looked about read to explode. He climbed up out of his chair and wrenched Mohawk up into the air, evidently with the intent of snapping his neck. "Why you little miserable—"

"Just a joke!" whimpered Mohawk. "Really bad joke! I'm sorry, Supreme Overlord of the Universe! **PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!!**'

Shadow held him in the air seething for a moment, then dumped him back on the floor and went back to his seat. "I'll let it go this time, lesser mortal," said Shadow flatly, "But next time I'll Chaos Blast your sorry posterior into orbit. Think you can handle that, you pathetic waste of matter?"

Mohawk nodded and got back into his chair. "Okay, next question. So, Supreme Overlord of Existence…"

Shadow raised an eye ridge; the flattery was evidently working.

"Why do you insist on rattling the windowpanes with your potty mouth in your game?"

"Because I swear, unlike some **[freeep**ing** [feep**tards like you," said Shadow.

Mohawk winced. "Hey, hey, you're lucky we caught those on the bleeper-outer, any more like that and I might have to put the story's rating up!"

"And you're gonna stop me? I'll say whatever the **[reep** I want," snapped Shadow.

"You sound like Ken when I beat him in video games," said Mohawk, frowning. "And he's a lame nerd, so I'd imagine you really don't want to be compared to—"

Darth Mohawk ducked as a large rocket screeched over his head. It flew to the other side of the stage and there was a big explosion.

"Evidently a lame nerd with a rocket launcher," said Shadow, crossing his arms.

"**HEY, NERD BOY! NO EXPLOSIVES ONSTAGE!!!**" Mohawk yelled to stage right.

"Keep insulting, I'm reloading!" came the aggravated reply.

"Insulting? No, that was just the _truth_, brother! You're a lame nerd, and you know what else? _**YO MAMA!!!**_"

"How _dare_ you say such things about Maria!" said Ken, frowning.

"Maria?" asked Shadow. "Wait, so he's Maria's son? Which means…"

**"[BLEEP**," swore Mohawk.

"YOU INSULTED MARIA!!!" Shadow jumped out his chair and pulled out a chain gun from nowhere. "_**DIIIIIEEEE!!!**_"

Mohawk screamed like a little girl and moved just as chain gun rounds reduced his chair to a smoldering pile. Still screaming, he proceeded to be chased wildly around the studio by Shadow. Chain gun rounds flew everywhere, causing audience members to duck for cover and leaving large holes in the studio's walls, floor and ceiling. Ken (now wearing a large military-style steel helmet), said while hiding behind a chair, "This has been the fifth episode of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. Please join us again next week… or the week after that, depending on how much ammunition Shadow has… for another hearty session of more of this stuff."

The camera winked out.

--

**Please review the story (if you can't find any suggestions just tell me what you liked about it, I always like knowing when the readers enjoy the stories I write). If you have further comment or commentary, serious suggestion, or any of the sorts of things that might require my extra time and proper personal response, my email adress is listed in my profile, write to me. 'Til then I've got books to read ("Children of Hurin" by Tolkien), music to listen to ("If We Could Only See Us Now" by Thrice) and games to play ("NiGHTS: Journey of Dreams"-- finally got it!), and above all (except maybe playing NJD) writing more stories. Chao!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome back, fair reader! I'm sure that many of you have been eagerly awaiting this broadcast; after all, it is the one with everybody's favorite evil genius, Dr. Robotnik / Eggman (whatever era, console, or game you recall him from). I will not keep you from your great excitement at being able to read this, and since I would rather be doing other things (such as "listening to Thrice" and "planning my next wargaming session") right now anyways, go on right ahead.**

**I do not own Doctor Eggman / Robotnik / Lard Boy. I have my brother Tom instead, and he is fat enough to make do. (_Oooooh_! Take _THAT_, brother!) Nor do I own any other of those awesome characters owned by Nintendo/Sega/Archie/not me. Darth Mohawk is on loan from my brother, Tom. Professor Ken is mine. **

--

_**Broadcast Six: Eggman**_

Mohawk was seated on a brand-new black leather chair. He grinned widely and waved. "Hello, all of my valued customers, I mean, guest audience members! First of all, I need to tell you something important." He smirked and yanked out a cowbell, clanging it loudly. "**COME TO THE MOHAWK MALL! COME TO THE MOHAWK MALL! GREAT STUFF, GREAT PRICES, GREAT TIMES! BUY IT ALL AT THE MALL!**"

A huge poster appeared on the screen. It said "Mohawk Mall. Standing Tall. Never Fall."

The screen returned to normal. Mohawk sighed contentedly. "Ah. Now that you have all been convinced, oh, and by the way, _**BUY MY STUFF MAN!!!**_" The screen shook with the ferocity of the statement. "Okay, now I'm done. Today's guest is a very famous figure. He's been around since Day One and everybody knows and hates him. But do we all really understand him? It's not a matter of that as much as it is we don't care at all. Boo, hiss, roar, whatever because uh oh, it's _DOCTOR EGGMAN_!!!"

The pudgy villain walked onstage. Mohawk snapped his fingers and a chair appeared. Eggman hobbled over to it and plunked down in it. There was an unhealthy _creeeak_ and the chair bowed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, doctor…" The chair immediately resized considerably. Eggman looked annoyed at the obviously rude gesture (the chair wasn't straining as if ready to fall apart like the first one though) but made no comment.

"So, before I get into asking questions there is something I would like to make clear," said Mohawk, looking serious. "Doctor, please draw your attention offstage."

Eggman leaned around and looked to the sides of the stage. A bead of sweat formed on his brow.

"As you can clearly see, I just so happen to have a good half-dozen extra-mean OC characters courtesy of my brother Ken on the right of the stage. They are all heavily armed and armored with bladed weapons and thick armor plate and most of them are veterans of some of the toughest conflicts in Ken's stories. There is also a smattering of crack Crescent Armada elite soldiers and K-17 heavy attack robots on the other side of the stage and in the back of the studio behind the audience, most of which have armor-piercing rifles and fifty-caliber machineguns. You can't see them behind the stage but we have a bunch of crabby Metarex, demon-beasts, and several armored vehicles. I personally have a triple bladed plasma sword and the White Super Emerald. Now, if you should attempt any, you know, 'monkey business', you and whatever cohorts you intend to get involved will have the ever-living snot kicked out of them on public television. So, I highly suggest you save the vying for world domination for _outside_ of the studio, eh?"

"Not fair…" grumbled Eggman.

"Fair is overrated. Okay, so, first question… Dr. Robotnik or Doctor Eggman? Which do you prefer?"

"Either or," said the doctor, playing with the end of his mustache. "I'm known as both. 'Eggman' is the more modern version of me, I guess, and people technically hate the 'modern' me less than the old one because I'm more dangerous opponent and less cruel dictator. Plus, I look less retarded as Eggman."

There was a mechanical clacking noise. An Egg Pawn walked onstage, carrying a table. It set the table beside Dr. Eggman and placed a box of donuts on top of it, then turned and waddled away. The doctor grabbed one of the pastries and devoured it as Mohawk asked the next question.

"So, how long have you been in the world-domination business?"

"Longer than you've been in the entrepreneur business," said Eggman irritably.

"And how did it all start?"

"That depends," said Eggman thoughtfully, munching down another donut. "If you think by the games, it doesn't have a real beginning, since the only reason you need a beginning to something is if it has an end and clearly I'm gonna be around for all eternity in Sonic games. If you think by those wretched comics, then it's different."

"Not a big fan of the comics?" asked Mohawk.

Eggman stuffed down another donut. "No! They make me look evil! I'm not evil! You know, the only way you can have heroes is by having villains like me keeping them awake when the really evil people like Black Doom and Metal Sonic are running around! _Contrary_ to popular belief, I _don't_ want to kill everybody on the planet! As I clearly mentioned during 'Shadow the Hedgehog' what's the point of conquering a planet if there's no people to conquer?"

An Egg Pawn waddled out, replaced the now empty box of donuts with a new one, and walked back offstage.

"So you don't pride yourself with evil?" asked Mohawk.

The doctor sighed. "Evil is overrated, my caped friend. The only thing worse than getting beaten by a blue spiny rodent is being hated by the entire gaming population of existence, since they have power over even the game designers and can make my life and appearance suck even more than it does now. So I gave it up, mostly. Next question."

"And why do you dress tackily?" asked Mohawk.

"And you're not?" Dr. Eggman shook his head. "_All_ video game villains have to dress weird. Actually, most heroes have to dress weird too. It's to more clearly show that we're different from the normal person."

"And, you _are_ a Robotnik and not just a Kintobor gone insane, right?"

Eggman shrugged, stuffing down another donut. "As I said, it depends on how you take things, although that's less simple than my name or reasons for beginning."

An Egg Pawn waddled out, replaced the now empty box of donuts with a new one, and walked back offstage.

"I'll just say you're part of the 'Eggman' family, all this lineage crap confuses me and I should know since technically _I'm_ part of it. Okay, so, what do you think of Sonic?"

Eggman finished off his current donut and once again progressed on to the last one in the box. "I used to hate him but it just isn't worth my effort. He's a good kid, I guess, very stupid but very lucky, with a good crowd of friends. I could probably squash him if I wanted to but that would be an abuse of my intellect."

"Yeah, yeah, about the intellect… hey, brother!"

Ken appeared in his customary flash of light. "What?"

"You're smarter than Eggman, right?"

"I would have to say yes, if we are talking IQ scores here," said Ken, looking pensive. "Old Uncle Ivo, if I recall correctly, has three hundred and I have either four or five hundred depending on what era you catch me in."

An Egg Pawn waddled out, replaced the now empty box of donuts with a new one, and walked back offstage.

"Ooh, ooh, I should have you two go head-to-head in a contest!" said Mohawk.

"Sure, provided you come along as comparison," said Ken, smirking. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have attack-robot programming to do." He vanished in a flash of light.

"Stupid original characters, outsmarting me," grumbled Eggman, stuffing down a donut.

"Next question: what would you say was your greatest creation?"

"The Egg Dealer!" said Eggman. "No, really, that thing wasn't actually intended for combat, it was a research machine. My greatest creation… I would have to say Metal Sonic, since he's the toughest of the bunch really. For whatever reason I have trouble making any real 'successful' robots that actually don't betray me…" He scowled. "Must be a flaw in Microsoft Programmabot."

An Egg Pawn waddled out, replaced the now empty box of donuts with a new one, and walked back offstage.

"I wonder why," asked Mohawk, rolling his eyes. "The next question's an easy one—why are you so fat?"

"Whaddya mean 'why am I so fat'?" roared Eggman, hammering the table with his donut box on it and picking out the last two pastries in it. "I'm not fat! I have thick bones!"

"Uh, dude, you just ate through five boxes of donuts just sitting here."

An Egg Pawn waddled out, replaced the now empty box of donuts with a new one, and walked back offstage. Before Eggman could go for them, Mohawk grabbed the box. "Okay, so these donuts are two hundred calories each, there are twelve donuts per box, and you just ate five boxes, so that adds up to…"

"Hey! Stop that!" yelled Eggman. "What I eat is my personal choice! You have no business delving into it!" He swiped the box out of Mohawk's hands and set it back down on the table, gulping down another pastry.

"Twelve thousand two hundred," said Mohawk gleefully, watching Eggman stuff the donut down and reach for another. "Twelve thousand four hundred… twelve thousand six hundred…"

Eggman pulled a laser gun out from somewhere. "Shut up or I'll incinerate you!"

"Twelve thousand eight hundred," said Mohawk, staring at the fourth donut Eggman had eaten. "I don't think those donuts are Weight Watchers-approved, lard boy…"

"Graaah!" Eggman fired the gun. The laser hit Mohawk and vanished without so much as changing his expression.

"My, what a miserable shot you are," said Mohawk. "Thirteen thousand calories in one day… might I suggest liposuction, lardball?"

"I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE, YOU HEAR ME?!? _REVENGE_!!!" yelled Eggman. He stood up, eating another donut angrily, grabbed the box and stomped off the stage.

"That's seven days worth of calories counting the rest of the box, buddy!" yelled Mohawk after him, pealing with laughter.

Ken appeared on stage left. "This has been the sixth installment of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. Join us again next week for more of what everyone wants—mean lip, good quip and a brand-new dip!" He winked as the camera turned off.

--

**Hope you all got a chuckle out of that. I did when I was writing it! See you all around! Professor going, going, _gone_! **


	7. Chapter 7

Greetings, fans and followers! Today's episode is the inevitable interview of that _one _character that I, my brother Tom, and hopefully the majority of my readers all despise. Now, if you are a fan of said character (look at the bold print below for name, I dare not use the wretched words here) I highly advise that you skip down to the big "Channel 77 Technical Difficulties" in bold about a third of the way down the page. If you don't, then, well, enjoy the show!

I do not own Chris (and those Sega/Sonic people can KEEP him for all I care, I hate his guts). If I did, this is what I would do to him. If he ever were to make it into a game before _I_ did, I would do this and more to the entire staff of Sonic Team. Darth Mohawk is my brother's, I own Professor Ken, and we are all quite pleased with the end results of what just might be my favorite chapter in the whole DMT season.

**-- **

_**Broadcast Seven: Chris Thorndyke…?**_

Darth Mohawk sat in his chair. A pair of headphones rested on his head and he appeared to be listening to his iPod. He waved his hand around to the unheard beat, then grinned at the camera and pitched it all aside.

"Hello, viewers! And we return to the Darth Mohawk Talkshow! Now, according to the cue screen over here, today's guest is a massive subject of controversy _aaannnd_…" Mohawk paused and read down the cue in his head. His smile didn't fade but one of his eyes twitched. "_Ken…_"

"What?" asked the professor from the side of the stage.

Mohawk, stilling grinning widely, asked "_Who is this new guest today?_" out of the corner of his mouth.

Ken checked a clipboard. "The channel controllers wanted us to include a special guest, they say it's important. He… he's Chris."

Mohawk's expression wrinkled and contorted into that of a full-face grimace. "Oh, no. No, no, _no_." He yanked himself up from his chair. "I'll be back shortly." He stomped off onto the right side of the stage.

The professor watched with a perplexed frown. "Um, brother... what are you...?"

From offstage, Mohawk's voice rang out. "_HEY, YOU! SCUM OF MOBIUS! WHAT THE **[beep** DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING STINKING UP MY STAGE SET WITH YOUR FILTH?_"

The nervous reply of the unfortunate victim could be heard. "_Hey... stop yelling, man! Who are you? I'm supposed to be being interviewed right now, so could you please move out of my way?_"

"_Interviewed my **[reep**_," Mohawk snapped back. "_Listen up, rube, and listen up good. I'm giving you three seconds to get the **[beep**_ out of here before I roast your sorry little posterior, comprendes?"

"_Stop swearing, you're being annoying!_"

"_ANNOYING_?" Mohawk screamed. "_ANNOYING _**THIS!**"

A huge burst of electricity blanketed the screen in flashing green light that could quite easily give viewers seizures, making a sound like a lightning storm over a forest of conducting iron trees that blanketed out any screaming from the crowd or otherwise. Suddenly, it cleared with a loud BANG, leaving a big plume of smoke sizzling up from the right of the stage.

Darth Mohawk stomped back onto the stage. He grinned like a loon and cackled. "Mwahahahahaha… I _love_ being evil…"

The audience was silent. Darth Mohawk turned and yelled, "What? They don't call me _Darth_ Mohawk just 'cause I tell 'em to!"

The crazy entrepreneur looked at the floor where Chris had been standing, somewhere offstage. He made a face. "Cleanup on stage right," he murmured, pulling out a box of baking soda. He dumped some on the floor and used a large deck brush to roughly clean Chris' disintegrated remnants (not visible from the camera but everyone _knew _they were there) off the stage, making quiet noises of disgust. "_Eew… somebody get the bleach…and maybe the holy water too…_"

Finishing quickly with the mess, Mohawk pitched the brush and box of baking soda off the stage, plating his face with a stupid smile. "With that little mess attended to…"

There was a cough from the other side of the stage. Ken motioned to the cameraman. "We need a minute."

**---CHANNEL 77 TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES… PLEASE STAND BY…---**

_"Okay, now what?" asked Darth Mohawk, waving his arms around. "Why are we off the air again?"_

_"You just disintegrated your guest," said Ken flatly. _

_"He was the guest for the night?" Mohawk looked upset. "What a gip! I thought that was some kind of opening act for the show! What am I gonna do NOW, huh? Card tricks?"_

_"We're gonna need to substitute," said Ken, frowning. "We need a replacement guest and we need one FAST. We've already interviewed all the people I could easily find and we just don't have enough time to arrange another person!"_

_"Oh, great. Well, do we know any out-of-category characters we could invite? You know, they might not come from the Sonic universe but we can interview them anyways?"_

_"And get shot to pieces by our viewers? Are you INSANE? People HATE those sorts of things!"_

_"How do YOU know?"_

_Ken sighed. "I, unlike you, did some research into talkshows before starting this one. Interviewing people the viewers don't know is not usually good. I don't have the reputation to spare to live down something like that."_

_Mohawk swore vehemently. "Bull honkey! What, am I supposed to do, bring Chris back from oblivion now? Lemme tell ya, partner, he's plenty good where he is!"_

_"I would have you do that but only so I could do the honors of offing him again myself. We agree that having Chris on this show is a definite taboo. However, I can't get the Chaotix in until next week and heaven knows everybody else is spread halfway across the face of the planet!"_

_"Do some time-warpy-teleporty thing!" cried Mohawk. _

_"I can't interrupt people's lives like that. Besides, I do not have the Chaos power nor the skill to do such prolific acts and you used up most of yours on Chris."_

_Darth Mohawk stomped his foot angrily. "And we can't find anybody else?"_

_"No! I spend four hours a day trying to contact guests all week long and finding another person would quite simply take too long!"_

_"This might as well be the end of my show," muttered Mohawk. "If I go an entire session with technical difficulties I'll be taken off the air!"_

_Ken sighed. "We could use an original character…like me…"_

_"…Okay." Mohawk breathed in and out deeply. "Not like we have a choice. Yah, yah, I'll interview ya. Just remember, both of our posteriors are up on the line here so no screwin' around!"_

**---CHANNEL 77 BACK ON LINE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.---**

Darth Mohawk grinned stupidly. "Okay, okay, we're back from our break! Now, we weren't actually going to interview Chris because I think I might've killed myself halfway through to stop the lameness, and we instead decided to invite a much cooler and readily accessible person. Please clap your hands and welcome m'brother PROFESSOR KEN!!!"

Ken appeared, as well as a black leather chair just like Darth Mohawk's, in his customary Chaos Control.

"Okay, so what about your funny name? I mean, 'Kenneth Gerald Robotnic…' "

"My 'funny name' indeed--" Ken's hand went for one of his pistols.

Darth Mohawk, sensing that he was within a few moments of getting shot, quickly changed his question. "Didn't you used to work with lard boy, Eggman?"

The professor calmly waved a hand in the air. "Very briefly during the Civil War a few years back. But my time under his employ consisted mostly of covertly sabotaging his efforts at creating super-robots, so I did him no favors by working for him."

"Yeah, uh huh." Mohawk flipped over the card. "The next question is—"

Ken smiled faintly. "Sixty-two years old."

Mohawk's jaw dropped.

"500 IQ points, 400 previously but I did some crash studying," said Ken, leaning back in his chair and speaking casually. "No, I'm not better at building machines than ol' Uncle Ivo, it's my programming that's superior. I founded the Crescent Armada from the dying remains of the Galaxy Soldier Army and I've led it since it was first introduced about forty years from the present date. I _was_ once a lord in the Star Empire, so I do actually have the title 'Lord Ken'. My saberaxe can cut through anything excluding certain exotic minerals seldom found in this part of the galaxy. The Crescent Armada is based out of Moonhaven, but not the one on Mobius but rather the one on Red Oak, which was sadly obliterated in the Fall about a decade ago. The biggest records I hold are for programming Artificial Intelligence System, AIS for short, the smartest, and the _only _fifth-dimensional, computer in existence, and for killing seventy-three assassin demons in a minute and a half back in Second Pass in the First Red Oak War."

Mohawk flipped through his cards hastily, then flung them into the air. "Augh! How the—"

"I'm using the Black Emerald to read your mind." Ken procured a black gem the size of a baseball from his pocket. "Oh, and I wrote the cards."

"Okay, then… how 'bout that girlfriend of yours, Sarai Niphar?"

"Deceased, sadly," said Ken, frowning.

"And Lady Hertia, queen of Red Oak, didn't you have an affair with her or something?"

Ken chuckled. "Oh, she dragged me into that, you know how she was."

"And what about that wacky apprentice of yours—"

"Call Jade 'wacky' again and I'll get him out here and have him beat the stuffingout of you," the professor growled.

"Hey, I own this chair, so I'm safe." Mohawk flashed a big smile at the audience before rambling on. "So what exactly is the biggest secret of the Crescent Armada, Iron Junction?"

Ken smiled. "That's classified. I could tell you, but then you would know."

"What kind of half-**[BREEP** logic is that?!"

"And why are you asking all the questions I don't want to answer, hmm?"

"Um, uh, because! It's my job to humiliate you in front of the public!"

"Hmph." Ken smirked. "Tough luck with that. You will find I am not so easily mistaken. You, on the other hand…" He held up a large leather wallet from somewhere.

"HEY! THAT'S **MY** WALLET! I'VE GOT, LIKE 50K IN THERE!" Mohawk swiped at it, but Ken held it out of his reach. After playing around with him for a minute, Ken handed it back to Mohawk, while keeping one hand on it.

"I'll answer _one_ more question, then I'm leaving." He released the wallet, and Mohawk yanked it back towards its rightful owner.

"Okay. Guess I'll have to make it a good one." Mohawk frowned in thought for a moment, then opened the wallet to look through it. Suddenly, his eyes bugged out, and he furiously thundered, "Hey! WHERE'S MY MONEY?!?"

"I took it. Now if you'll excuse me…" Ken stood up and made to leave.

"HEY! GIMME BACK MY MONEY, CHUMP!!" Mohawk lunged for Ken, but the good professor disappeared in a flash of Chaos Control. As Mohawk hopped around the stage and made good use of his colorful 'American' language, Ken said (in a voice-over from somewhere else), "This has been the seventh installment of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. Tune in next week to see Mohawk, uh, hopefully not Sith Lightning another guest to death."

--

You like? Good! Now, the first part of this story was just a really big, well-thought-out, stupidly funny gag (my apologies if anyone is offended by it, it was unavoidable) . The second part is a transition (and my explanation for not including more of my own original characters here), and the third is a partial preview of some of the stories I hope to publish here on the Net sometime in the future. This IS my favorite chapter, after all. Please give reviews; I'll post again in two weeks. Professor out.


	8. Chapter 8

Greetings, reader. Today's episode of the DMT is a sort of mundane one compared to the lineup you've seen last (Shadow, Eggman, Pile of Ashes on Stage Right), but never fear, it is still a pretty good one in that Mohawk does make his major points with the interviewee and does partake of imbecilic acts that result in his own painful demise by the end of the show. Read away for all I have to say here is...

I do not own Vector, Sonic, etc., or any other character belonging to Sega/Nintendo/whomever. Professor Ken is of course mine, and Mohawk is on loan from m'brother, named the same. Any offense taken in this work is fully intended and you should... nah, just kidding, I apologize if anyone is offended by this.(Except that lazy lunk of a brother of mine, Tom. All offense towards _him _is fully intended.)

--

_**Broadcast Eight: Vector**_

Darth Mohawk's chair was empty. The stage was silent, uninterrupted by the crazy entrepreneur's loud, obnoxious voice.

One of the floorboards of the stage suddenly flipped up. Darth Mohawk clambered up from beneath the stage, pulling off his big white spelunker's helmet and pitching it aside. "Whew! That was a close one. I almost had to pay my bills again!"

He took his seat. "Anywho, I've invited a pretty prominent guest today! Now, I personally didn't give a toot about this guy until I played as him in _Sonic Heroes_ and then he was all the rage! It's everybody's favorite half-deaf crocodile, VECTOR!!!"

Vector walked on from the side of the stage and took a seat in the chair Mohawk provided. He closed his eyes and began bobbing his head to the just barely audible drone of his headphones.

"So, Vector…" Darth Mohawk coughed. "_Vector…turn the frickin' music down and listen, you're on air…_ **VECTOR!!!**"

The crocodile simply did not hear him. Darth Mohawk whistled and motioned offstage. Somebody (probably Ken) pitched him a large bolt-action rifle. Mohawk pointed the weapon up in the air near Vector's head and pulled the trigger.

The thunderous blast of the gun caused Vector to jump. "Huh-_what?_" He yanked off his headphones and looked around. "Oh! Hey, so you're Darth Mohawk?"

Mohawk muttered something unintelligible and pitched the gun back offstage. "Oh, and you're a big crocodile, right?"

"Uh, yeah, that'd be me," said Vector, giving Mohawk a toothy grin.

"First question: how can you still hear me after blowing your ears out on your friggin' walkman?"

"I can hear plenty well, 'cause us crocodiles have really tough senses of hearing!"

"I don't seem to recall crocodiles holding any great records for hearing in the first place, _buuuut…_" Darth Mohawk pulled out his cue cards from within his robes. "Okay, this one from the professor. How powerful is your bite?"

"My bite?"

"Yeah! You know, crocodiles are kinda famous for chomping stuff with like fifty thousand pounds per square inch! You can do that, right?"

"Well, 'course I can! I mean, look at these chompers!" Vector tapped the side of his large crocodile snout.

"Okay then, bite through this two-by-four," said Mohawk, pulling up a thick piece of wood. Vector shrugged, took the piece of wood and turned it sideways, lifting it up to his jaws. He bit it clearly in half and handed the pieces back to Darth Mohawk.

"Ooh, that is intimidating," said Darth Mohawk, making a face as ugly images of Vector snapping other things, in particular parts of unlucky persons and himself, entered his head. "I'll bet that's handy when you want to coerce things to go your way."

"Oh, yeah, it's really helpful. Nobody really spends too much time fighting me, they figure out where they don't want to be ending up pretty fast.

"So can you swim?"

"Uh, I'm a crocodile. Yes."

"Just had to make sure. And, you're the leader of the Chaotix Detective Agency, right?"

"Yep! Our motto is 'We never turn down work that pays'!"

"Is business good?"

Vector frowned. "Well, no, it isn't really. Not a lot of people seem to need detectives and we sometimes can barely pay the bill for the office."

"And what's up with your accent?"

"Accent? What's wrong with it, huh?"

"Well, you sound like you're from down South somewhere. And you know your voice in _Shadow…_" Darth Mohawk whistled. "You sounded like you were voiced by a friggin' _woman_! '_Find the computer room!'_" Darth Mohawk mocked his voice. "_We gotta find the computer room, Shadow!_' You sounded like a RETARD!!! Holy crap, at least Black Doom didn't sound like a mental patient!"

"Hey, my voice is plenty fine!" yelled Vector.

"Uh huh, maybe in comparison to your horrible singing it—"

"I can sing real good, I just need practice! Here, lemme show ya!" Vector reached for a microphone nearby but Darth Mohawk stopped him. "_Vector, if you start singing I will fry your little reptilian brain until it leaks out of your ears_," hissed the crazy entrepreneur. He then grinned stupidly. "Onwards! So, there really aren't a lot of crocodiles around these parts, are there? It must be tough picking up ladies when there aren't any around to be picking up…"

"Yeah, well, just an occupational difficulty," said Vector, frowning.

"What kind of music do you listen to?"

"Rock, metal, anything with a good beat," said Vector.

"Which leads me into the question of volume… is your walkman always set to 'liquidate' or are you actually playing it softer than we all like to think?"

"How about you determine?" asked Vector, offering his headset and music player to Mohawk.

"Sure, why not! I like loud music too, especially jingles for my malls…" Mohawk put the headphones on and switched on the music player.

The crazed quadrillionaire suddenly screamed. He shot a full three feet out of his chair, eyes bugging out of their sockets and looking like his head was about to explode.

Mohawk wrenched the player off of his head, shaking uncontrollably. "**ARRRGH! TOO MUCH ÜBERBASS! MY HEAD!** _**AAAAAAAAHHHH!**_" Darth Mohawk wobbled around, his eyes rolled back up into his skull, and he passed out onto the floor.

"Maybe it is a little high…" said Vector, looking with mortified surprise as Ken walked onstage and shook Darth Mohawk's shoulders, looking for a response. While checking him for a pulse, Ken muttered, "This has been the eighth installment of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. If Darth Mohawk ever regains consciousness and hearing, we'll see you again next time. Come on, brother, come back around…"

The camera winked out.

--

You enjoyed? Hope so. Giving you people a little chuckle or two is what I'm out here for (besides the obvious 'making my name known to a wider audience so when I post new stories you might read 'em). You probably know the drill-- please review, say something you liked, and if you have further questions my address is in my profile, send me a message. Professor _out_.


	9. Chapter 9

Greetings, readers! Today on the DMT, we're doing everyone's favorite anthropomorphic bee, Charmy! I don't really have all that much else to say here, besides my disclaimer, but this episode is pretty good. Well, I think it is. Enjoy!

I do not own Charmy, Sonic, etc. I do own Professor Ken, and Darth Mohawk is on lone from my brother, Darth Mohawk. Star Wars and all its affiliates belongs to Lucasfilms and George Lucas, the greatest science fiction guy (at least, that I know of) to ever walk the face of our planet.

--

Broadcast Nine: Charmy

Darth Mohawk sat watching Star Wars Episode Five: The Empire Strikes Back on a small television screen, scribbling things down into a notepad and mumbling to himself. Satisfied that his note-taking was sufficient, he shoved the TV and the cart it rested on forcibly off the stage, tucking the notepad into his robes. He then plated his face with his maniacal grin and faced the camera.

"Hello, all my legions of fans and critics! Today, I'm gonna talk to that little fuzzy orange-and-black ball of energy known as Charmy! Give him a hand, folks!"

There was a flash of orange and black as the bee flew across the stage, fluttering happily around in the air a few feet to the side of Darth Mohawk. The wannabe Sith Lord looked at him and grinned widely. "Okay, Charmy, first question. How many people look at you and do this."

Mohawk jumped out of his seat, pointed, and screamed. "AAAAHHH! IT'S A GIANT BEE!" He ran around the stage a little and then plopped back into his chair, returning to normal.

"Not a lot of people. I'm too cuddly to be scary!"

"More like 'goofy' or 'stupid' to be scary… hey, hey, please, hold still, Charmy…"

The bee was flying around energetically. "I'm on TV! Hey, I'm on TV! Look, guys, I'm on TV!"

Mohawk stood up, watching Charmy nervously. "Come down from there… come on… stop it, I'm not done with my questions... **[BREEP**, CHARMY, HAUL YOUR POINTY LITTLE POSTERIOR DOWN HERE OR SO HELP ME I'LL GET THE CAN OF RAID!!!"

The little bee finally lowered himself back down and stopped flying around a lot, although he was still very, very active and kept flinching. "Whaddya want me to do again?"

"Sit," ordered Darth Mohawk, pointing at the black leather chair that had appeared when Charmy did for the guest to sit on.

"I never sit down! I like flying around better!"

Darth Mohawk grabbed Charmy and forced him down onto the chair. The little bee's stinger stuck fast into the leather chair, fastening him in place.

"Okay. Now, second question… you're quite clearly wired, but why?"

"I just am, s'all!" The bee struggled to free himself, but fruitlessly.

"No, really… are you on crack or cocaine or anything?"

"Drugs are for lugs! I'm normal, Vector said it!"

"Uh, no, you're bouncing so wildly off the walls I have to pin you to a chair. Oh, I bet I know… how much candy, soft drinks, or sugar to you consume per day?"

"Not enough!"

Mohawk sighed. "That explains everything. So, how old are you, Charmy?"

"Six!" Charmy wrenched himself free of his chair and fluttered a few inches above it, rocking side to side in the air impatiently.

"And how did the Chaotix find you?"

"I don't remember, I was really little…" Charmy paused to consider. "I think I was flying around, minding my own business, you know, with the flowers, and somebody grabbed me…"

"For whatever reason I seriously doubt it was that simple. Well, Charmy, you're the craziest character in the whole kit and caboodle by a long shot, and… HEY! GET DOWN FROM THERE, YOU!"

Charmy, growing disinterested, had flown up into the rafters and was now playing with one of the ceiling-mounted lights. "What does this do?" He pressed a button on the light's side, causing it to flicker. "Ooh, it's blinky! Yay!"

"DOWN! DOWN, I SAY! Grrrrr… CHARMY, HAUL YOUR STINKING LITTLE…"

Darth Mohawk was beginning to get really steamed. "HEY, BROTHER! LITTLE HELP HERE?"

The professor walked onstage and looked up. "What do you… oh, I see. Having trouble with your guest?"

"Do you have a net gun, or maybe a taser?" asked Mohawk sharply. "He's ruining my show!"

Ken shook his head and tsked. "Clearly I must do all the parenting in this generation of the family, brother, since you obviously have no skills in childcare." He pulled a large lollipop from somewhere and whistled. "Hey, Charmy! If you come down here I'll give you this big piece of candy!"

The bee immediately flew down. "Candy! Gimme!"

Ken smiled. "You promise you'll behave?"

"Yeah! I'll be good!"

Ken handy the lollipop to Charmy, who grabbed it and began avidly sucking on it. The professor looked over at Darth Mohawk. "It's all about encouragement," he explained.

Darth Mohawk crossed his arms and scowled. "Harrumph. They don't teach babying in business school, you know…"

"So, Charmy, mind if this stupid mean guy in his gaudy blue cape asks you a few questions?" asked Ken.

Charmy looked up from the lollipop (it was really big and barely fit into his mouth). "Mmph. Sure!"

"My cape is way more fashionable than your stupid labcoat," grumbled Mohawk, leafing through his notes as he scowled at Ken. The professor smirked and left the stage. "Okay, so, Charmy… what is your biggest contribution to a Chaotix case?"

"I once did one all my own!" insisted Charmy. "No, really! We needed to find the prettiest flowers for somebody's girlfriend and I found the really good ones!"

"Beh," said Mohawk, scowling. "Okay, so, from what I've heard you used to be older but then Sega ducked you about ten years when they put you into Heroes."

"Whaddya talkin' about? I've always been this age!" protested Charmy.

Mohawk cast a perplexed look to Ken. "Brainwashed, methinks?" The professor shrugged in reply.

"So, Charmy, my final question… how do Vector, Espio and everybody put up with you when you're clearly a total whackjob? I mean, I don't see much parenting skills in either of them…"

"Put up? Hey, they like me! I'm the mascot!" protested Charmy.

"Yeah, that's not an enviable position, Charmy, it means they're humoring you." Mohawk sighed. "Well, I'm out of questions… oh, wow! It looks like I'll actually get out of an episode without getting—"

Suddenly, a huge sandbag fell down from the rafters. It smacked down on Mohawk with a whump and a sickly crack, clobbering him beneath its bulk.

Mohawk looked totally KO-ed. "Ah… backy… breaky…"

"This has been the ninth episode of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow," said Ken as he rushed over to help his fallen sibling. "Join us next time once we've healed Mohawk and removed every single sandbag in the building."

--

Well, y'know, I can't let Mohawk leave the stage without getting clobbered. You probably don't need me to tell you to 'please leave a review' by now, but hey, I still like getting reviews. See you in two weeks! Professor out.


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry about the delay-- normally I always get around to updating on Tuesdays, but hey, I've been really busy these past few days. Now, I'll bet that all you unpatient readers are already looking down at the title for the episode and saying, "Mighty? Who's he?" Well, you see, he's actually one of the official Chaotix (the other being Knuckles) who Sonic Team dumped; Mohawk will address this later and his words are much my own. I know that you're all begging for me to do your favorite characters next, but the deal is that I want to get through all the Chaotix first. That's this episode and next (since you'll still have Espio to look forwards to after this). Don't you fret, though, I'll get around to all those family favorites. I mean, heck, I'm just getting started here!

I don't own Mighty. As much as it is likely that I could buy or steal him from Sega (I mean, after all, they've forgotten that he ever existed by now) and I would like to own the right to his name, I probably can't afford him. (Oh yeah, doesn't Archie have rights on his name or something? I know he's in their comics...) Professor Ken is mine, Mohawk's on loan from 'One-Page-A-Month' Tom, my unprolific sibling, and enough about me, let's get on to the main course!

--

_**Broadcast Ten: Mighty**_

Darth Mohawk stepped out onto the stage's side, grinning widely. Suddenly he stopped, the smile falling from his face. Cautiously he looked up into the rafters, craned his head around a little, frowned, and then continued to saunter out into the middle of the stage.

Just as he was about to take his seat in the middle of the room, the rich entrepreneur suddenly leapt to the side. Another sandbag came crashing down from the rafters, missing him by inches. It had not yet hit the ground when Mohawk whirled around and held up his fists in a fighting stance.

Narrating from the side of the stage, Ken announced, "Ready… GO!"

Mohawk fell upon the sandbag like VP Tom on campaign funding. He began whaling on the heavy bag with his fists with a _whamwhamwham_, giving it several hard jabs and a few uppercuts, making it jiggle and bounce. He headbutted it a few times, kicked it once or twice, and sledged into it with his shoulders and elbows.

"Five!" exclaimed Ken, leaning forwards to watch. "Four!"

With a cry like a wild animal, Mohawk pulled out his heavy wallet and began smacking the sandbag in a flurry with it.

"Three! Two!"

"RAAAAARRGHH!" Mohawk reeled backwards, hands sparking with electricity, as he prepared for his finale.

"One!"

"_BUY MY STUFF!!!_" Mohawk plunged both hands into the sandbag, torrenting a massive amount of Sith Lightning into it. With a loud SCREE-EE the sandbag went flying out of the studio at a forty-five degree angle, mashing a huge hole through the corner of the building as it screamed out off into the distance.

Ken leaned forwards and squinted as he began counting its footage. "One, two, three, four, five, fifty-five hundred… _fifty-eight hundred feet!_"

Mohawk jumped high into the air. "Woohoo! A new record!" He grinned and gave the crowd a thumbs-up. "Welcome back to the show! Wasn't that great?"

The crowd responded with moderate enthusiasm.

Ken frowned. "Well, _I—_"

"Shaddap," hissed Mohawk. "That missile launcher was _cheating!_ You know that the bigger half of that sandbag landed at fifty-seven!"

"Yeah, from fifty-seven to six thousand," said Ken, frowning.

"Anyways, back to the show!" declared Mohawk, beaming again. "Today's guest is an incredibly obscure character who appeared only in one very obscure game that not even _I_ have played. Believe it or not, they chose to dump this guy for _Sonic Heroes_ instead of several vastly more retarded characters I would be happy to never see or play as again…" His voice dropped off a little. "_Whatever they were smoking, I want some…_" His voice then returned to its normal tone. "The CDA's very own Unknown Agent, Mighty the Armadillo!"

The armadillo calmly walked in from stage left and sat down in the chair Mohawk provided. Mighty looked bored and rather disinterested, with his hands clasped together under his head.

"So, Mighty…" Darth Mohawk began, pulling out his notecards from within his robes. "Word gets out that you're pretty, well…"

"Mighty?" offered the armadillo, smiling faintly.

"Yeah. And, how…" Mohawk paused and pressed a hand to his head, sighing. "No, that's too corny even for me… so how strong are you, exactly?"

Mighty hopped down out of his seat, reached out underneath Mohawk's chair, and lifted the entire thing, Mohawk included, over his head without so much as flinching—with _one hand._

"Okay! Okay! Really, really strong!" Darth Mohawk squeaked. "Put me down!"

Might shrugged and placed Mohawk's chair back on the ground. He then retook his seat.

"Now, with all that strength of yours, you must've really provided all the muscle in your group, right?" asked Mohawk, cracking his knuckles.

Mighty shook his head. "Yes, but no. I'm not into the whole 'breaking kneecaps' thing. I use my strength for peaceful purposes, not for brash, instinctive brawling. There is plenty enough of that in the CDA."

"So you're a pacifist?" inquired Mohawk auspiciously.

The armadillo nodded. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that's cool." Mohawk frowned. "Not fun, but cool…"

"It is gratifying in its own way," Mighty assuaged.

Mohawk smiled and flipped to his next card. "Which brings us to the question—are you still with the CDA?"

"Of course I am," said Mighty, raising an eye ridge. "Who wouldn't I be?"

"Because Sonic Team seems to be denying your very existence," said Darth Mohawk flatly. "You have not been in ANY of their games, not just as a playable character, but not at ALL, not even in any of the CDA scenes."

"I am in all of those scenes," Mighty insisted. "It's just that either I'm just off-screen, or I'm guarding the entrances. If you heard any odd whumping sounds, those were probably me doing my job."

"Sorry, there weren't any whumping sounds," said Mohawk, frowning. "I guess they didn't resonate through the walls… really, though, did you offend some snooty high-up game designer with your pacifistic ways? I mean, seriously, they chose _Big_ over you. Big, the retarded fat cat. I'm sorry to say that even Tails is cooler than that lardball, and you two can't even be spoken of in the same sentence."

Mighty's expression darkened. "Some things… I would rather not talk about. It is not often I feel compelled to do society a favor through violence."

An apprehensive looked dawned on Mohawk. "Oooooooh… I see. Well, I won't press any further there. It's just sad how the people responsible for such a great game series can be so retarded as to deny your existence. They're all idiots, the lot of them."

The entrepreneur paused. "So, do you have anything else to say?"

"Not really."

"Okayyyy…" Darth Mohawk frowned. "Well, we still have a little airtime left… oh, I know!" He snapped his fingers. "Mighty, your last major appearance was on the… on one of those old-timey Sega systems, the Genesis or something, right?"

Mighty nodded. "Yes."

"How do you think these modern games compare up to the old ones?"

The armadillo looked pensive for a moment. "Well… better graphics in the new ones, actual plotlines… the older games were usually harder, with more concentration on playing the game rather than seeing cutscenes… I gotta say, you can't beat the originals though."

"Greatest game of all time?" Mohawk asked.

"Knuckles and the Chaotix!" Mighty chuckled. "No, no. Simply because _I_ was in it doesn't mean that it was the greatest. The greatest game of the series… I'd have to say Sonic 3 and Knuckles, personally. I mean, I played it, and it was pretty good."

Darth Mohawk twitched slightly. "Did you hear that? Sounded like the fourth wall breaking… which can only mean one thing…"

"What?" Mighty asked.

"Copyright lawyers!" Mohawk screamed, jumping up to his feet. "Run for your_LIIII_—"

A huge mass of people in black business suits began pouring in from the sides of the stage. "Violation! Violation! You're violating the terms of your script!" the lawyers screamed, lunging at Mohawk with heavy black briefcases swinging.

"Back!" Darth Mohawk pulled out his tripled-bladed lightsaber and activated all three blades, swinging them around in a wild blur of blue plasma. "Back, you fiends, back! I stand to make no money from this—"

The lawyers fell upon him. There were heavy _whump_s and the constant drone of localized plasma as briefcases met blades. More lawyers poured in from behind the backdrop, waving around papers and briefcases, as a giant brawl began to develop.

"This has been the ninth—shades of the Great Ones, copyright lawyers!" Professor Ken drew his pistols and began firing into the melee, speaking as he gunned down lawyers. "This has been—the tenth episode—please rejoin us—once we finish this battle!"

A lawyer then noticed the camera. "Hey, you're not allowed to be reading this! It's contraband mate—"

The camera went out with a loud BANG as the lawyer was shot down.

--

Yeah, like none of you saw that one coming, huh? Well, it had to happen eventually, you know. Give reviews, praise, constructive criticism, requests, whatever as you see fit. Until next time, I've gotta go. Those copyright lawyers aren't going to beat _themselves _up, you know!


	11. Chapter 11

Greetings, population of reviewers! (You guys are like my shareholders; woe betide me if you should be displeased, you've got all the influence in this firm!) Today, I finish up with the last of the CDA, the ninja-warrior Espio. What comes next episode? I don't know, I haven't written it yet, but I'll start getting on to all these favorites everybody keeps asking about... and, of course, some of my favorites, which I have been holding in reserve. Not to worry, of course, the way I run this show even the most intolerably lame and obscure of characters can be hilariously portrayed when faced with the mean, lean, mocking machine that is Darth Mohawk. My usual last details, and let's get this chapter going!

Disclaimer: I do not own Espio, or Sonic, or anyone else. Sadly. Professor Ken is, of course, mine and Darth Mohawk's on loan from my sluggishly-unprolific brother, named the same. 

**--**

**Broadcast Eleven: Espio**

"Greetings, all ye lesser mortals!" Mohawk exclaimed gleefully, waving from his comfortable chair on a brand-new stage, even gaudier than the original. "We decided to refinish the whole stage, just for you!" Under his breath, he growled, "_It still reeks of the foul stench of copyright lawyer…_"

One of the carnivorous villains poked his head up from beneath a floorboard. "You are violating the t—" he began to shout, but Mohawk stomped on the board, driving the lawyer back down with a _whack_.

"BEGONE, ENVOYS OF EVIL!" the crazed entrepreneur yelled, stomping on the floorboards. He then grinned again and faced the camera. "Sorry 'bout that. We would've killed them all but it turns out that they're already mostly undead, so we just stuffed them somewhere secluded instead. So, we shall now return to our featured interview. The guy I'm interviewing is a bit of a diversion from the usual in the whole Sonic series; he is famous for being the quiet and rational person, ever the naysayer, who keeps quite highly the sacred warrior code of Bushido. I now bring you… Espio!"

The DMT theme played. Nothing happened, though. Mohawk twitched one eye. "_Come on, come on… get out on the stage…_"

"I am." The chameleon suddenly appeared, seated comfortably in the guest's chair. 

"Oooh, you're good," said Mohawk, smirking. "Now, Espio, we're all dying to know… how do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know, the vanishing trick? It's not just the whole changing skin color thing, is it?"

Espio's face remained set as though in iron. "Not exactly. There is a bit of that involved, of course, but it also involves a few other subtle tricks."

"Care to divulge?" Mohawk asked, rubbing his hands together. 

"No."

"_Darn._" The crazed entrepreneur pulled out his cue cards. "So, you're a ninja, right?"

Espio shrugged. "You could say that."

"Yeah, well, what's up with the long face? I mean, you don't laugh, you don't joke around, you don't even _smile_! Shadow might be grumpy, but he's not so intolerably _dull_ like you are!"

"I don't get a cash bonus for being obnoxious," Espio said tersely. "Although some of my peers may make it out differently. And I feel no great need to humiliate myself, unlike some of the others."

"Well, okay then, Mr. Boring…" Mohawk flipped onto his next card. "How did you get involved with the Chaotix?"

"You could say that I simply _appeared_ on the scene."

Darth Mohawk stared at him. "Did you just attempt to make a joke?"

Espio quirked an eye ridge. "There's your gag. Laugh away."

Mohawk sighed. "It's… not really that funny. It sounds like something my brother might say, and he's… well, you know."

"Much more intelligent than you are?" Espio suggested. 

"Yeah, I guess you could—NO, I mean he's a lame nerd who needs to get a life!" the entrepreneur snapped. "All he does is sit around in a lab all day and churn out death robots!"

"All_you_ do is sit around in your penthouse and count your profits," Espio growled. 

"I do not!" Mohawk retorted. "I spend very little time in my little cozy home! Don't you know I spend nine out of ten of my waking hours managing my Darth Mohawk Malls? They don't run themselves, you know!"

"Every day after you get out of bed, you spend two hours locked in your vault organizing your collection of gold bullion," Espio said, pressing his hands together. 

"What are you talking about?" Mohawk said, tossing his cards to the floor. "I do no such thing!"

"From nine to eleven," Espio continued. "And then you have a big meal, a whole two-liter bottle of Slice and several large pizzas with small coin-shaped pepperonis on top, followed by a large box of expensive chocolates. This keeps you hyperactive for the better part of the day, which you usually spend wildly Chaos Controlling about your dozens of malls, driving your security team off the walls, until you finally get worn out and—"

"STOP!" Mohawk yelled, jumping to his feet. "How do you know all that stuff? I pay Ken _waaaayyy_ too much for him to leak out my secrets!"

"I did a little recon yesterday, just in case I needed to back up a point," Espio said coolly. 

"RECON, my **[reep**! You were STALKING me!" Mohawk jumped up and down. "Stalker! Spy! Sneak! _Scum_!"

"I'm a ninja. That's my job definition."

After mumbling a few more obscenities, Mohawk picked his cards back up off the floor and plopped back down in his chair. "Any ladies, Espio?" he asked, grinning again. 

"Women violate my personal codes," Espio said, crossing his arms again.

"What exactly _are_ your codes, anyways?" the crazy entrepreneur asked. "All that Japanese Bushido stuff? Because, well, in this modern day and age, chivalry is overrated. Military code is what the big countries use to let the little countries savage them. I personally believe that any code excluding codes of law are overrated. Live how _you_ want, not how some old guy says you should!"

"Your lifestyle certainly doesn't agree with that," Espio said.

"Hey, hornhead. I'm Darth Mohawk." Mohawk pointed to himself. "The richest man on Mobius. The greedbag. My picture's the international signal for capitalism gone wrong! The only codes I keep are the ones I line my wallet with!"

"Okay then, big-and-mighty-Mohawk," Espio said. "If you're such a tough guy, then why do you let your 'nerdy little brother' control you?"

"Whaddya mean? Oh, you mean like how I give money and stuff to Ken?" Darth Mohawk smiled sheepishly. "Wellll, that ain't generosity, Espie, that's more along the lines of 'blackmail'. Besides, he's useful to me. His nerdy designs make my giant mega-malls possible."

"What about all that money you just give away?" Espio inquired. "You can't stand hearing when people don't have enough money for stuff they really want or deserve. I've seen you hand out a handful of bills to some guy who couldn't afford the fancy ring he wanted to buy for his wife."

"Oh, that guy was selling his soul to me," Mohawk said, grinning wickedly. "Not a bad trade, I gotta say. For _me_, anyways."

"And_this_?" asked Espio, holding out a paper. "According to this government form, you gave about eight hundred thousand bucks to a local orphanage, allowing it to remodel for a larger facility."

Mohawk laughed again. "Are you kidding? I was _buying_ the dump!"

"Plenty more where that came from." Espio pulled a large pile of papers from somewhere. "Five hundred grand to the Retkins Fund… nine hundred fifty to the Minds and Hearts… three _million_ to the Board of Education of a town wrecked by an earthquake…" 

"Lies! All lies!" Mohawk shrieked, not sounding so convinced. He quailed slightly in his chairs. "I would never do such kind things! I'm not a nice guy! I'm a rich entrepreneur who'd rob an old folks' home if he knew he could get away with it!"

"These are all signed and stamped by you," Espio said. "I took them all off your desk, so I'm assuming it's all authentic…"

"You_WHAATTT_?" Mohawk rose to his feet again. "You've been sneaking around my OFFICE? Okay, that is IT! You can follow me around in my malls, you can spy on me in my home, but you can NOT be infiltrating my office! You're endangering trade secrets, not to mention my good name! You're not just _scum_ for doing that—you're a THIEF!"

Espio's head immediately snapped over towards Mohawk. "Take that back. Immediately."

"Heck no. I said it, and I _meant_ it!"

"One. Two. _Four_," counted Espio dangerously. 

Darth Mohawk stuck his tongue out. "Suck it up, you big wussy _coward._"

"Go time." The chameleon suddenly vanished. 

Darth Mohawk stood absolutely still for a few moments. There was silence. He then laughed. "Ha ha ha! Looks like he ran off! See that, folks? The terror of Mohawk is—"

Suddenly, Espio reappeared behind Mohawk. He jumped on top of the entrepreneur and proceeded to beat the ever-living snot out of him.

"This has been the eleventh installment of the DMT," Ken said, leaning in from the side of the stage. The professor winced, watching Mohawk getting beaten like a rug. "Another fight for me to break up… we'll be seeing you again next week, assuming we can get these two apart in time…"

The camera winked out.

--

You think that's good? Hey, I haven't even gotten to _half _of my favorite folks yet, so there's plenty more where this comes from! Tune in in two weeks (or whenever, knowing my wacky schedule) for the next installment; if you want to shift my course on the next character I get on the show, well, the review button's right down and to the left, I'll take suggestions! 


	12. Chapter 12

Hello, all of my adoring fans! It's Darth Mohawk, your favorite author, back with another episode of the DMT! Today I get to humiliate another wonderful guest, and as you can see by looking down the page, it's as good as always! Now don't forget to send your money and valuables to me after the show!

Disclaimer-- I don't own any of these people. Those dumb clucks down in Japan do. (No offense, I like you people's styles!) Darth Mohawk is me, of course, so I own him. Professor Ken belongs to my nerdy little brother... like this story USED to! Mwah ha ha! BUY MY STUFF, MAN! That's my motto! Buy it all at the Mall!

--

**Broadcast Twelve: Rouge**

The camera focused in on the stage of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. The audience, usually chattering and acting raucously, was dead silent. Two chairs lay upon the stage, neither of the two occupied.

Nothing moved for about a minute. Everyone was silent.

Professor Ken suddenly walked out onto the stage. "Welcome, my admiring audience," he said, turning to face the studio's crowd. "Today on 'The Professor's Report', we shall be discussing one of my personal favorite topics, the war-winning weapon of the Crescent Armada, the Snapjaw rifle, and its importance in the modern—"

With an explosion of coins and low-value bills, Mohawk appeared. "WHAT THE **feep** ARE YOU DOING?" he barked. "I leave to cash one quick little eight-digit check and you're already taking over my show!"

Ken grinned. "April Fools!" he said merrily, sweeping an arm out towards the audience. The crowd burst into laughter.

Darth Mohawk scowled. "You _suck_."

The professor bowed with feigned courtesy, his sword clanking against his hip. "Likewise." He vanished.

Mohawk muttered something indecipherable under his breath, and then continued where he had left off, plopping down in his chair. "Our guest for this evening is a shadowy femme fatale that many of you know and adore. Please welcome everyone's favorite creepily seductive secret agent, Rouge the Bat!"

Very much in line with her style, Rouge floated gracefully down from the rafters, landing right in the front of the stage. She winked to the crowd, which promptly burst into loud applause, and then took her seat.

"_Sellout,_" Mohawk grumbled. He then grinned. "Okay then, Rouge, my first pressing question—you are to seductive behavior as my brother is to nerdiness; why are you such a slattern?"

"Slattern?" Rouge glared at him, gritting her teeth. "I am not a slattern! I am just very comfortable with myself!" She smiled, showing off her fangs. "And I do like messing with people, too. I find it very… _rewarding_."

Mohawk suddenly convulsed. "_Jibbliejibbliejibblie_!" He shook himself off. "Never say that again!"

She winked at him. "Oh, too much for your little immature mind. Sorry."

"Go play in traffic," Mohawk retorted. "Why does Sega let you even _imply_ all this stuff? I mean, seriously! I play these games 'cause I like blowing stuff up, not to watch some indecent chick like you saunter across the cutscenes!"

Rouge smiled and leaned forwards a little. "_Weeeeelll, _I just—"

Mohawk's face suddenly twisted into a sickened expression. "_That's_ enough, I don't need to hear any more." He sighed and shook his head. "_Dear god, is nothing sacred…?_ Now, with _those_ uncomfortable questions behind us, onto the set. Why are you so obsessed with jewels and loot?"

Rouge raised an eye ridge. "You're one to talk."

The rich entrepreneur laughed nervously. "Yeaaaahh, well, _I_ like the feeling of power riches bring. But you seem to prefer minerals to money, if ya know what I mean. Why?"

"I like pretty things," Rouge said, smirking. "They make _me_ feel pretty. Besides, I also like the challenge of finding them. That's the real fun."

"You mean 'stealing', right?"

Rouge nodded. "You could say that, yes. And your scamming is different _how_?"

"Hey, I wasn't saying anything _against_ stealing, scamming or cheating people. _I_ make it a fine art!" Darth Mohawk cackled wickedly. "So, besides the jewels, why do you help the government? I mean, there's enough **bo-eep**s and big **aa-eep**es in the government as it stands!"

The whole studio erupted into laughter. Darth Mohawk himself burst out laughing, hammering his hand on the arm of his chair. "_Boy_, that was a GOOD one!"

"Very funny," Rouge said dryly, glaring at him. "Are you done being immature yet?"

It took Mohawk a little while, but he settled back down. "Pressing onwards! So, do they really pay you in jewels?"

"Not entirely," Rouge said. "A girl can't pay bills and buy food with rubies, you know. It takes _some_ cash."

"I know," Mohawk said, frowning. "Isn't it disappointing how few places take gold bullion? I coulda saved myself a lotta trouble a couple times if they'd just have accepted a couple bars instead. Now…" He pulled out a cue card and glanced briefly at it. "Oh, yeah. Do you actually _have_ a boyfriend?"

Rouge looked out towards the audience, smiling. There was a considerable amount of whistling and calling. "I wouldn't say just one in particular, no… do any of you people in the crowd have any jewels you could lend me?"

There was another considerable response.

Rouge cackled. "Take a head count, that's a few of them."

"You really are one loose woman, aren't you?" Mohawk asked, making a face.

Rouge smiled amusedly. "I like having options, yes."

"Yeah, we all kinda figured. Do you have a favorite kind of jewel, Rouge?"

"If you mean kind as in color, not really, I like 'em all," the bat responded nonchalantly. "My favorite stones as in kinds are Chaos Emeralds, though. They're the rarest and the most valuable, so they're very fun to steal. Actually…"

With a sweep of her hand, Rouge procured one from apparently midair. "I have one on me right now."

"Now, I'm dying to know… where, exactly, do you _keep_ all the stuff you steal? You don't exactly have pockets, and I've never seen you with a bag of any sort, so…"

Rouge smirked. "Trade secret." She flicked her hand up and the stone vanished, back into wherever she kept it.

"Nice save. So, have you ever dated or been extra nice to someone just to steal their valuables?"

"Not usually," Rouge said. "A girl's gotta have morals, you know. I don't go out on dates just for free food or whatnot, and I don't usually let people give jewels to me just because they like me—that's really being mean, I don't unless I'm personally interested. But there have been a few…" She winked slyly at Mohawk. "Exceptions."

"Go hit on my little brother, he actually _has_ a heart," Darth Mohawk growled. "I'm just about out of questions here. Anything else you'd like to say?"

"I'll date anybody with good looks and jewels," Rouge said, addressing the audience. "My personal number's in the book, if you're interested, drop me a call."

There was loud applause.

"Hey, hey, that's a misuse of my show!" Mohawk said loudly.

"It's just advertisement," Rouge said.

"Yeah, well, it's on _my_ show, so that'll be two thousand bucks," Mohawk said flatly, extending his hand.

Rouge _hmph_ed. "You wouldn't charge a lady, would you?"

"Hell, I'd charge you if you were broke in the streets. Shell out."

The bat was about to start looking for her purse (hidden somewhere secret) but suddenly, a large red jewel plunked down right in front of her. Rouge's ears pricked up. "Ooh!"

Mohawk's eyes lit up. "Riches! _Gimme_!"

Both of the two lunged forwards, bashing into one another. They were soon savagely fighting over the jewel.

From the side of the stage, Ken chuckled. "This has been the twelfth installment of the DMT." He leaned forwards, watching with interest and a sly smile. "Yeah, she's beating the stuffing out of him pretty thoroughly. Well worth the gem!"

The camera winked out.

--

April Fools, everybody! Sorry 'bout that, I couldn't resist playing a little prank to make up for the big one I abandoned. Tune in next other Tuesday for another episode! Who will I do next? Well, any suggestions? I'm taking 'em now! Oh, I think I hear the sound of my brother screaming in horror... well, he WILL be! Haha! Professor out.


	13. Chapter 13

Greetings, my readers! Sorry about the delay, I was on vacation yesterday. Now, for today's episode, some of you may be slightly offended, so just remember that I don't agree with everything Darth Mohawk says. And if I get anything wrong here, it's only because I, like Mohawk, have not actually _played _any of the games Silver is actually in (I haven't considered them to be worth my money, I'm fussy about my game selections), but I did my best with what I could figure out.

Disclaimer: I do not own Silver, Blaze, Sonic, etc. Darth Mohawk is on loan from my brother (who, sadly, is not nearly as well-to-do as his namesake because he's too lazy to earn his keep!), and Professor Ken is, of course, mine.

--

**Chapter Thirteen: Silver**

Darth Mohawk beamed from his seat in his chair. "Greetings, my adoring fans!" He waved his hand in the air, showing off his nice new golden ring, upon which a large red jewel was mounted. The greedy entrepreneur also appeared to be unwittingly displaying a large boot mark on the front of his black robes. "Welcome back to the DMT! For today's regiment of fun 'n games, we will be bringing in another guest for me to beat the stuff—err—_interview _tonight!"

From the side of the stage, Professor Ken sighed and rolled his eyes. "How very _entertaining_…" he murmured, crossing his arms.

"Today's fest, I mean _guest_, is being brought in simply because all you people like him." Darth Mohawk scowled. "I personally don't, I mean, he's a cheap ripoff who puts all of us _real_ psychics and seers to shame, but to avoid riots in future dates, I shall appease the crowds. Give a big hand—and maybe a foot to the face, too—for Silver the Hedgehog!"

There was a big flash of light, and the telekinetic hedgehog dropped down onto the spare chair, avoiding Mohawk's efforts to pull it out from beneath him as he landed.

"_Darn, too slow…_" The greedy entrepreneur cackled. "So, Sliver—"

"_Silver_," the hedgehog corrected.

Mohawk smirked. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that you don't look very silver to me, more like a bluish-white."

Silver cast an annoyed look out into the crowd. They all laughed.

"Seriously, I guess that Sega's artistically-challenged staff couldn't quite pick the right tone," Mohawk said sardonically. "So, you're supposedly psychic, right?"

Silver snorted. "Gee, what gives you _that_ idea, the big entrance flash?"

"Hey, gimme a break here," Mohawk said. "I've never even played a game with you in it. Y'know why? 'Cause they all—"

Ken whistled loudly from the side of the stage. Mohawk looked over towards him; the professor was shaking his head and making a cutting motion with his hands. Darth Mohawk seemed to get the idea; he laughed nervously and immediately changed the subject. "So, Silver, you come from a different time… tell us about that, please. What's the future like? Am I still alive? If so, am I even _richer_?"

"Uh, I don't think you exactly _exist_ where I come from," Silver said, frowning. "I certainly have never _heard_ of you before now."

Mohawk made a face. "What? You didn't even know who _I_ was? Gee, the future _is_ bleak!"

"Technically, it's not the future," Silver said. "It's a slightly different dimension, an alternate future, if you will…"

"Ooh. Kinda like how I own the whole eighth dimension?" Darth Mohawk asked.

Silver looked confused. "What?"

Mohawk cackled. "Hehhehheh. You'd be surprised what things you can buy if you've got the funds… getting back on track, though. So, what's the coolest thing that you have in your dimension that isn't in mine?"

Silver smiled. "Me."

"Wiseguy, eh?" Mohawk groused. "Doesn't the future suck, though? I mean, you've got Nega-Eggman running amuck, plus that dark god guy, Imbecile and Moron or something…"

"Iblis and Mephiles," Silver corrected. "The two split halves of Solaris."

"Whatever, he sure as hell ain't _my_ problem." Mohawk sighed. "A real pity, too… I'd do good as one of that loser's minions."

The wannabe Sith lord pulled out his cue cards. "So, Silver… what kinds of psychic abilities do you possess?"

"Telekinetic," Silver explained. "I can move and manipulate things with my mind. Sort of like this."

He extended a hand; one of the spotlights on the edge of the stage spun in a circle, unscrewing itself from its mount, and then returned to its original position.

Darth Mohawk yawned. "_Amateur_."

Silver looked grimly over towards Mohawk. "I'd like to see _you_ do better," he snapped.

"With pleasure." Mohawk extended his own hand; the spotlight dissected itself into its separate components, without even turning off, and then quickly put itself back together.

Silver stared blankly. "…Nice," he said quietly.

"**Beep** straight, boy," Mohawk growled. "Don't go for broke if you can't be sure I don't have a flush. Now, you've got a girlfriend, right? That Blaze chick?"

Silver paled. "She's just a friend," he insisted.

"I've heard that one before," Mohawk said gleefully. "Seriously, how often do you two date? Weekly? Every other Friday?" He cackled again. "Whenever you're in the _mood_?"

"We aren't friends like that!" Silver exclaimed. "Just 'cause she's a girl doesn't mean we're like that!"

"Bull honkey," Mohawk retorted. "You're a good-looking hero with a good-looking heroine, if you aren't already related then you've got to be up to something! Been to first base yet, Silver?"

"Sh-shut up!" Silver yelled. "Or I'll _make_ you!"

Darth Mohawk snorted. "Yeah, yeah, I guess you haven't then, you're waaaaayyy too immature to partake of such subtleties."

"I am NOT immature!" Silver snapped.

"Then why are you _whining_ at me?" Mohawk replied. "No, no, it's not that you're immature, you're just good old fashioned _wussy_."

Silver immediately jerked forwards in his chair. "What'd you just call me?"

"Wussy," Mohawk continued, grinning widely. "Weakling. Pansy. _Wimp_."

Silver raised a hand; Darth Mohawk was suddenly hurled head over heels out of his chair. He landed hard on the stage with an _ummph_.

The greedy entrepreneur remounted his feet. "Oh, it's _on_." Mohawk cracked his knuckles. "I can see you can fight, Silver, but the question is… do you like your meats _fried_?"

Before Silver could respond, Darth Mohawk launched a huge surge of lightning from his hands. The silvery hedgehog immediately activated a shield; there was a huge flash of light.

Suddenly, the lightning turned back on Mohawk. The greedy entrepreneur sparked and sizzled, his body flashing to show his skeleton, before finally ceasing. He stood on the stage, black as soot and smoldering, jittering and babbling incoherently. "_Mo-mmm-mon-monneeeeyyy_…"

Professor Ken walked briskly out onto the stage, a look of sickened disgust on his face. Silver frowned. "Did I hurt him?" he asked nervously.

The professor looked at the partially barbequed entrepreneur. "Not seriously, but by the looks of things you've fried the brotherboard pretty well…" He chuckled at his little joke. "This has been the thirteenth episode of the DMT, please come back in for our next session in about two weeks… assuming we can fix him in time…"

The camera winked out.

--

What did you think? Leave a review, and I'll be back for more in two weeks!


	14. Chapter 14

Welcome back to the DMT. I'm sure you're all wondering now, why was I so slow in updating? Because, believe it or not, I have actually released the incredibly long-awaited sequel to Silver Crescent, a story I have named 'Crimson Conquest'. This means that I am devoting far less time to the DMT and much more time to this story and the two others I am currently working on (one nearly ready for release, another still in early stages of production). Of course, you aren't here to hear of my prolific prudence, you're here for the Darth Mohawk Talkshow! This episode, we're interviewing Blaze. My disclaimer, and right on to the main attraction!

Disclaimer: I do not own Blaze, Sonic, the world, etc. Nor do I intend to make money off of this. Darth Mohawk is on lone from my brother, and I own Professor Ken.

--

Broadcast Fourteen: Blaze

With a burst of his trademark themesong, Darth Mohawk strode proudly out onto the stage. "Greetings, my adoring fans!" he cheered, moving to sit in his chair.

Immediately, there was a loud movement and a sudden swelling of jeers from the crowd. Mohawk froze in place, his head swiveling staunchly to the side. "What? Have I already succeeded in offending you?"

The crowd jeered again. "_You attacked Silver! Boo!_" someone yelled from the back.

"Wow! I must be _good_ at this!" Mohawk laughed wickedly, sitting down in his chair. "Yeah, well, to add insult to your injuries, I have graciously decided to invite another person from those newfangled games! Please put your hands, fists, and assorted rude hand gestures together for Blaze the Cat!"

Blaze walked out calmly out onto the stage and sat herself down on the chair Mohawk provided.

"So, Blaze…" The greedbag made a face. "Aptly named, aren't you?"

"Very," Blaze agreed, nodding.

"Rumor comes around that you're a bit of a… _firebrand_," Mohawk said with a cackle.

Blaze raised an eyebrow. "_Thank you_ for your warm welcome," she said, menace creeping into her voice.

The rich entrepreneur grinned. "You're welcome, Ms. _A_blaze," he responded, laughing.

Her expression soured. "Can't resist a good jab, can you?" Blaze growled.

"Only my job," Mohawk assured. "Though I'm sure you're quite… _warm-hearted!_ _Aah ha haa_!" He hammered a hand on the side of his chair, convulsing with partially-stifled laughter.

By now, Blaze was fully scowling. "Shut up, you peasant," she forcibly snapped.

"_Peasant?_" Mohawk stopped laughing and cranked himself forwards in his seat, the fury of a scorned saint in his eyes. "PEASANT?" he roared. "I own the largest commercial empire in this entire universe! I am the shah of shopping centers, the emperor of economics, the grand lama of liaison, and the Buddha of banking clans! I wipe my **(eep)** with hundred-dollar bills! I rule this world's entire economy with my great gilded _fist_, and you call me a PEASANT?"

Blaze pushed backwards against her chair a little, unnerved by Mohawk's sudden turn of attitude. "Are you royalty, though?" she asked coolly.

Darth Mohawk laughed. "Mwah ha _ha_. I, Darth Mohawk, am the king of currency. As you can _clearly_ see…" He held up his wallet and flipped it open, revealing a full pack of high-denomination bills. "_These_ little hunnies are my crown jewels." Mohawk then snapped his wallet shut and tucked it back away again. "Not for you, of course. I wouldn't share these if Death himself came for me."

Darth Mohawk paused. "Well, maybe if Ken tried to tell embarrassing stories about me as a young businessman again. But no one, man or woman, can pry Mohawk's fortunes from his fingers, no sirree!"

Blaze rolled her eyes. "_Commoners,_" she murmured.

"So, Blaze…" Mohawk pulled out his notecards. "We've already firmly established that you are a snooty noble—"

The sound of a guillotine in operation—_schawing—_rang through the air.

"—_Yes, we'll do that every time we mention it—_but what's the story behind that, huh?"

"I am a member of a prestigious royal family from another dimension," Blaze explained.

"Is there a name?" Mohawk asked.

"I am not inclined to disclose that," the pyrokinetic cat explained, "Due to the rules of interdimensional travel. I will, however, tell you that they are the ruling clan of my world, and are very influential."

"No duh, you're a snooty noble," Mohawk said flatly. (_Schawing_ went the guillotine.) "So, you are a princess and/or queen. Is that your sole responsibility?"

"No," Blaze explained. "I have to keep track of the Sol Emeralds as well."

"What are those?" Mohawk inquired.

"They're just like Chaos Emeralds, just a little different in color and more boxy."

"Yeah, I thought so. Now, what about that guy you travel with, Silver or whatever?"

Blaze smiled. "He's cute, but he has very little common sense."

"I noticed," Mohawk said, sighing. "Isn't he kinda wussy?"

Blaze nodded. "Don't mention I said it, but yeah, he's pretty wussy."

"Not a word," Mohawk pledged. "So, how did you two meet?"

"Oh, it was bound to happen eventually," Blaze said, casually waving a hand. "Two psychics in the same local area, about the same age… we just got lucky and ran into one another, and it's just been like that ever since."

"So you two get along well?" Mohawk asked. "No fights or anything, over how he's too wussy or you're too mean?"

"You don't exactly _fight_ with a princess," Blaze said. "I mean, he's a commoner, and I'm nobility--" _Schawing,_ "—So it's pretty obvious what happens—I lead, he follows. Besides, he's not gutsy enough to really tell me otherwise." The cat smirked. "I just _lean_ on him a little and he practically falls apart."

"Figuratively or physically?" Mohawk asked, making a face.

Blaze smiled mysteriously. "_Both_."

Mohawk shuddered. "Okay, okay, that's _waaayyy_ more than I ever wanted to know, which wasn't much to _begin_ with. Leaving that creepy topic behind us, you're pyrofanatic or something, right?"

"Pyro_kinetic_, yes," Blaze corrected. "You want me to light something on fire?"

"No," Darth Mohawk said, giggling. "I was just wandering… if you liked SWIMMING!"

The greedbag lunged over, pulled up a large metal pail full of water from somewhere, and hurled its contents at Blaze. The cat lost composure and shrieked, but it was far too late for her to do anything about it. Water went everywhere, particularly on top of her, leaving one very unhappy-looking Blaze in a water-sodden chair.

"Enjoying your _bath_, Your Highness?" Darth Mohawk thrashed back in his chair, buckling with laughter. "Ah hah hah hah _hah_!"

Blaze shook herself off and glared at Mohawk with the full wrath of a scorned queen. She snapped her fingers; immediately the top of Mohawk's head—and his prized namesake—burst into brilliant flames.

Darth Mohawk bolted up from his chair. "_AHHH-I'M-ON-FIRE!!_" he screamed. The crazed entrepreneur ran from the room smoldering.

Professor Ken walked briskly out onto the stage, carrying a few towels slung onto his arm. "I'm terribly sorry, Blaze," he apologized, handing her a towel (she promptly began patting herself dry, growling audibly all the while). "You know, he's not quite right in the head, got an odd sense of humor—"

Blaze grabbed another towel and began attempting to dry off her lavender coat, with minimal success. "I _hate_ being wet," she hissed, practically ripping the last one off of the professor's arm.

Ken sighed. "This has been the fourteenth episode of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. We will continue our escapades, whenever Mohawk can regrow his hair, because clearly he cannot appear in public without it…" He looked down towards Blaze. "Do you need more towels, milady…?"

The camera winked out.

--

Please leave a review. I get kind of concerned when I don't see reviews-- it makes me think that you're getting bored with this, which is upsetting because I won't write something that people don't want to read, and I've still got some of my best gags in reserve, with plenty more on the way. Other than that, have a good two weeks... or three... or whenever I next update!


	15. Chapter 15

Good day to you, reader! It's been a little while since I've updated the DMT, so today I'm doing a double-header, two broadcasts in one day! This first one is a pretty basic one-- I don't have any special interests in Cream, but I still did my best with her interview. Why hold you up more, you've got reading to do!

Disclaimer: I do not own Cream, Sonic, etc. They belong to Sega/Nintendo. I do own Professor Ken, and Darth Mohawk is on loan from my brother (of the same name).

--

Broadcast Fifteen: Cream

"Greetings, my loyal subjects!" Darth Mohawk bellowed from his comfortable seat upon his lavishly-decorated stage. "Welcome back to the DMT! Now, ALL BOW AND WORSHIP ME!"

There was absolute silence in the studio for three whole seconds.

Mohawk frowned. "Okay, so I haven't achieved cult status yet. Save that little ruse for later…" He grinned again. "On today's installment of the DMT, we're going to be interviewing everyone's favorite well-mannered juvenile. _This_ time, I brought my shotgun, because open season starts right _now_! Applaud at will for Cream the rabbit!"

Startled by the audience's enthusiastic reply, the little rabbit nervously made her way over towards the center of the stage. Mohawk snapped his fingers; immediately, a large iron bear trap, fully armed, appeared where the guest's chair would usually be. Cream stared at it with obvious distress. "Umm…"

Mohawk cackled. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't hide it well enough." He snapped his fingers again, and a chair dropped down on top of the trap, covering it completely (but not setting it off). "Have a seat, kid." He cackled maniacally.

There was a clatter of metal upon wood as Professor Ken suddenly stormed in from stage left. "Okay, Darth Mohawk, we're going to have to give you the axe for this episode," he snapped, handing the greedy entrepreneur an official-looking piece of paper. Mohawk eyed it with a look of disgust. "That's a direct order from the higher-ups, they're all up in arms about you right now."

"What?" Mohawk retorted, crumpling the piece of paper up and pitching it aside. "This is the _Darth Mohawk_ Talkshow! Ratings are through the roof, why am I getting evicted?"

"Because management is afraid of letting you interview a six-year-old without supervision," Ken explained, crossing his arms. "Seriously, you haven't even started asking questions yet and you've already scared the poor thing half to tears."

Mohawk rolled his eyes. "_No duh, I do that to everyone…_" he grumbled.

"Plus, your attitude is atrocious," the professor continued. "Just think about what kinds of bad words you'd be teaching her!"

Darth Mohawk scowled. "Hey, man, I don't speak no **bleep**!" he yelled.

Ken immediately clapped his hands down on Cream's head, flattening out her tall ears so she couldn't hear. "My point exactly. Move your pudgy keister, brother, I'm doing the interviewing today."

With a string of muttered obscenities, Mohawk stood up and moved to the side of his chair, allowing the gun-slinging professor to take his place. "You can sit down now, Cream," Ken said, motioning towards the chair. "The trap isn't actually there, it's an illusion Mohawk created to mess with your head."

The rabbit sat down in the chair with some difficulty (she was a little small for it). "That's not very nice," she said, giving Mohawk an odd look.

Ken sighed. "_He_ is not very nice. Okay, first question—how did your mother name you so inventively?"

"Mommy says she thought the name fit me."

"And I suppose you named your little Chao in the same manner…?" The professor paused. "Wait. You two are inseparable. Where is the little guy?"

"Backstage," Cream explained, motioning over her shoulder. "Cheese is a little camera-shy."

From behind Ken, Mohawk began sniggering. "_Cream and Cheese… that's RICH, man… mwahahaha…_"

Ken cast a black look over his shoulder, and then returned to the interview. "So, you're _how_ old now, Cream?"

"Six years and two months," Cream said proudly.

"Oh, and you're fully literate, right?"

Cream made a face. "Huh?"

"To be 'literate' means that you can read and write," the professor explained.

"Yeah, I'm literate," Cream replied. "Mommy taught me how to."

"_Can't expect more from someone named 'Vanilla',_" Mohawk cackled. Ken shot him another dark glare, and then turned back towards Cream.

"Well, I learned how to read when I was about… give or take a few days… two months old," Ken said, smiling. "But technically I was a child prodigy with the memory of several supercomputers, so you're not doing too badly yourself."

Mohawk scowled. "_Showoff,_" he growled, _"I learned complex algebra when I was a month and a half…_"

"That's because I taught you how to count, and you kept pestering Great-Grandfather Gerald about it until he taught you more about it," Ken replied casually. "Next question—do you have a father, Cream?"

The rabbit frowned. "Mommy says he died before I was born."

The professor frowned. "Quite tragic. So did my father; such a pity, he was a good man, my mother always spoke fondly of him." He shook his head. "That was a long time ago, though, and it cannot be helped."

Ken paused, apparently thinking. "Hmm. Not much else comes to my mind here… okay, I have a few more. What do you think of my brother Mohawk, Cream?"

"He's a big meanie," Cream said, crossing her arms.

The professor smiled, nodding. "Don't forget, he's quite stupid too…"

"And he should get some manners, too, and stop muttering behind people's backs!"

"I'm _paid_ to do this, you know," Mohawk growled.

"And Mr. Mohawk should also try thinking less about his money and more about real life!" Cream retorted.

"Okay, _that_'s _IT_!" Darth Mohawk pulled a large double-barreled shotgun from somewhere and pumped it menacingly. "I hate little kids, and I hate being insulted by them! Hope you like lead, Cream, 'cause you're about to get two big facefulls of it!"

Ken looked concerned. "I would _highly_ advise you not do that, brother…"

Mohawk frowned, shouldering his shotgun. "Why not? I've killed people for less than that before!"

"For starters, she _does_ have a fan gathering, and I don't mind her personally enough to deem her a good use of ammunition," Ken explained. "Oh, and Cream's mother is a big stockholder in your program, so double-barreling her daughter might not be such a bright idea."

"**Feep **that," Mohawk groused. "I _still_ say she's too annoying to be allowed existence… besides, she's a power-stealer! Just think about it, Ken, half of her abilities are borrowed from other characters in series, and she makes Tails completely redundant in_ Sonic Advance 2 _and_ 3_!"

"Says the guy who learned everything he knows from Count Dooku and Emperor Palpatine," Ken snapped.

Mohawk gestured wildly with his hands. "Hey, they were cool guys, man! They were both rich snooty entrepreneurs, they could both shoot lightning from their hands, and Emperor Palpatine took over the universe for nineteen years! What's _not_ to like?"

"I don't know, maybe one got decapitated and the other fell down a deep pit and fried?"

"_Palpatine came back for a few years by using a bunch of clones,_" Mohawk growled, crossing his arms.

"The point is moot." Ken extended a hand. "Now, give my shotgun back before I have to get violent here. And I assure you, I can get draw and discharge my sidearms faster than you can possibly fathom."

Mohawk hemmed and hawed, but gave the gun back. "Fine, fine, you win this time…" Suddenly, his eyes caught on something near the bottom of Cream's chair. "Ooh, look, a penny!" He walked over and stooped to pick up the copper coin. There was a sudden, terrible _SNAP._

Mohawk immediately recoiled, a large bear trap clamped firmly onto his arm. "_AHHHHHHH-I'M-DYING!_" he yelled, and ran screaming from the room.

Ken frowned, looking in the direction Mohawk had exited from. "That was somewhat disturbing. This has been the fifteenth episode of the DMT. Please join us again next time. It might get more violent."

The camera winked out.

--

What did you think? Well, write a review and move on, the next Broadcast's a good one! See you later, Professor leaving.


	16. Chapter 16

Welcome back, reader! Part Two of my double-header is one I've been keeping in reserve for a while now, Cosmo's interview. Now, she just so happens to be one of my favorite characters of all time. More than Tails? I think so... and, of course, the performance of my alias in this broadcast gives strong evidence to this. (Anyone who does NOT like Cosmo, imagine yourself being the heckler who pops up in the Broadcast, and learn from his mistakes!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Cosmo. I REALLY wish I did, but guess what, Sega/Nintendo/4Kids (I think) have first dibs. Professor Ken is mine, Darth Mohawk is on loan from my brother, Darth Mohawk. And yes, I fully back any actions the Professor takes in this episode!

--

Broadcast Sixteen: Cosmo

Darth Mohawk sat, looking unusually rigid, in his chair on the stage. He began speaking in a tone fringed with discomfort. "Welcome to the Darth Mohawk Talk—"

A loud _CLICK-CLACK_ from somewhere offstage interrupted him, causing the greedbag to flinch. "--Show," he continued, casting a nervous glance offstage. "For today's epi—"

_Click, clunk-CLACK._

"—sode, we will be interviewing one of—"

_Clunk, SHIINK,_ _click-CLACK._

Mohawk stopped speaking and turned around in his chair, facing the left of the stage. The camera panned over, showing what was causing him such anxiety.

Attaching one last part to a giant chaingun-like contraption mounted on a tripod just behind the curtain, Professor Ken calmly sighted down the massive weapon's barrel (which was almost as large as he was in length and width), ensuring it was properly fitted. He was smiling grimly all the while as he sat down in a chair right behind the gun's stock and trigger assembly.

Darth Mohawk frowned. "That's a… really nice gun you've got there, Ken," he said.

The professor smirked. "This is the Mark Three 'Triple Six' heavy machinegun, capable of firing .86-caliber high-explosive rounds at a rate of about ten per second from its seven barrels, for the duration of its one-thousand-round belt. I could probably reduce the entire stage to smoldering ashes in about ten seconds with this beauty."

"Can't you be setting up your big death gun somewhere else?" Mohawk asked in a strained tone.

Ken shook his head. "Oh, no, I like it here. Get on with the show, please."

Mohawk swallowed, and then turned back forwards. The camera panned back out. "As I was saying, today we will be interviewing another one of those questionable characters that some people like and some people don't, who just so happens to be one of my younger sibling's favorite characters of all time. Please welcome in that… umm… _not risking insults right now…_ well, the world's only known living Seedrian..."

"Seed_lian_," Ken correctly loudly from offstage. "My canon is law!"

"Yes, your cannon_ is_ law," Mohawk said, frowning. "Anyways, cheer loudly and whatever for Cosmo."

The green, plantlike creature walked out onto the stage, seating herself with a word of thanks in the chair that Mohawk quickly provided.

"So, Cosmo…" The entrepreneur grinned. "You've got a leaf in your hair."

"Huh?" Cosmo reached up to her head, entirely forgetting the fact that she had a large number of leaves (as well as two large red flower buds) growing from the top of her head.

Mohawk gleefully burst into laughter. "Gotcha! _BWA HA HA HA—_"

Ken's Triple Six emitted a hammering drone as its cooling rods began cycling, immediately causing Mohawk to cease laughing. "Uh, I mean… sorry, couldn't resist, just a joke, heh heh heh…" The noise slowed and stopped shortly after, at which point Mohawk pulled out his cue cards (hands still shaking) and began reading off of them.

"So, Cosmo, you're a… plant, right?" Mohawk paused. "No, wait, or are you an animal that looks like a plant? Seriously, I can't really tell…"

"I can communicate with plants, and I can turn into a large tree," Cosmo offered. "So yes, I'm a plant too."

"Then why are you walking around and talking?" Mohawk asked cynically. "I mean, plants don't usually act like people in my experiences, I've set my fair share on fire and they don't make that much of a ruckus over it…"

Cosmo made a face. "_That_ is barbaric," she stiffly informed him.

Darth Mohawk laughed. "In a previous life I was a Viking, what can I say? No, my real question is, how do you have so many rabid fans? I mean, I hate houseplants, I don't like trees, and I sure as heck don't like _you_ either, but you've brainwashed at least a few people into becoming nearly obsessive over you!"

Cosmo shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea why. You might as well ask _them_, it's nothing I'm doing."

Darth Mohawk whirled around in his chair; the camera panned back over to show stage left. "Hey, Bigshot, why are you unnaturally obsessed with Cosmo?"

"She offers excellent potential," Ken replied, resting his hands on the back of his Triple Six. "She has such a sweet attitude and is fun to write about, and don't even get me started on the ideas I've gotten from what little information I could find on her background." He chuckled. "Plus, she makes such an adorable pairing with Tails…"

Darth Mohawk blanched. "I am going to hurl," he said with disgust, turning back around. "Okay, so that's the professor's excuse for it… everyone agrees with that?"

There was a sporadic murmur of agreement from the audience. Suddenly, a heckler stood up in the front row. "I hate Cosmo! She's such a wussy little prat, and god, just _look_ at her, Tails can't possible like a freaking--"

Ken leapt up from his feet, stomped over to the edge of the curtain, and hurled a plasma grenade at the heckler. It exploded in a bright flash of light, leaving a small pile of ash where the heckler once stood.

"Anyone _else_ wish to voice dissent?" the professor growled, pulling out another grenade. No one else spoke, much less moved. With a loud grumble, Ken retreated back behind the stage, vanishing from view.

Darth Mohawk looked backstage, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally, he's gone. Okay, I've got about three minutes to get all my dirty work done, so let's get right to the point! First of all, Cosmo, what are you doing _back_ here? Didn't you get blasted to oblivion already?"

Cosmo frowned. "Ummm… I can't tell you?"

"You don't even know? _Man_, that's pathetic. So, are you and Tails back together, or did you dump him for killing you?"

"Why would I dump him for something _I_ told him to do? Were you even _watching_ that part of the episode?"

"No, I was too busy laughing, and then Ken kinda shot me and we had to go to the hospital… anyways, you do know that we had him on the show a while back, right? He said that he doesn't like you anymore, that he's going for someone who's, you know, more in his same animal kingdom…"

"Tails would never say that!" Cosmo snapped.

"Oh, I guess he didn't tell you about it… well, I guess he must like _some_ part about you, I mean, do you sleep with him or something?"

Cosmo blushed. "That's very private!"

"I can read your face like a message in pig latin, which I speak fluently." Mohawk cackled. "Such a tragedy, really… maybe he's trying to be nice about it, or maybe he likes being a playboy and having two women with him at once! Think about it, he isn't around the house all the time, and he's out some nights too…"

"You're lying! That's impossible!" Cosmo burst into tears. "He'd never do that to me!"

"Aww, boo hoo hoo, looks like he has been for a while now," Mohawk said, masking his glee. "I'm sure he won't be too upset when you tell him, he'll probably stick around with you for as long as he can, you know, let you stay in his house or whatever…"

The camera panned over towards the side of the stage. Ken had suddenly returned, and he didn't look very happy. "I'm BACK now!" he yelled, grabbing the handles of his Triple Six. The cooling rods began cycling again.

Mohawk turned around. "Oh. **Bleep**."

The greedy entrepreneur got his triple-bladed plasma sword up just quick enough to start deflecting the torrent of explosive shells being fired at him. "Okay! Okay! It was a big crock of crap! I made it all up because I like making people miserable!" he screamed, furiously batting away the projectiles. "You can stop crying now! PLEASE!"

Cosmo sniffled a little, and then looked up. She scowled. "That was very inconsiderate of you! How could you even _think_ of being so mindlessly cruel?"

Mohawk began running around, his plasma sword a blue blur as he hacked at the rounds being fired at him. "I'm sorry, okay! I screwed up, I'll admit it! Just MAKE HIM STOP SHOOTING AT ME!"

Cosmo sighed. "I don't like violence," she admitted. "Okay, okay, you can stop trying to kill him now…" Immediately, the firing stopped. Mohawk deactivated his plasma sword and tucked it back away, looking very shaken.

He turned towards Cosmo and scowled. "I still hate you," he growled. Mohawk then stomped away, headed towards the right of the stage.

Cosmo casually stuck out one of her feet, tripping Mohawk. The Sith Lord wannabee fell off the stage with a crash, landing several feet below at the bottom, twitching occasionally.

Ken looked in from the side of the stage. "Ouch," he said, giving Cosmo an odd look. "This has been the sixteenth episode of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. Please join us again next time, after we check in on Mohawk."

The camera winked out.

--

You like it? Good, then tell me about it! You didn't like it? Well, that's just too bad... no, seriously, tell me what you'd like to see instead, I try to take requests. See you all later, I'm out of here! Professor out!


	17. Chapter 17

Heya, readers! Now, today on the Talkshow, we are going to be interviewing one of my favorite characters... and NO, it isn't that aptly-named tub of lard Big. (Do you seriously think Mohawk would let him live more than a few seconds onstage?) Instead, I'm going to be doing a little promo for one of my best partners-in-crime, Mauserkar98. As such, the disclaimer is a little different today... oh, and so is the Talkshow, of course.

Disclaimer: I do not own Big, thank God. Professor Ken is mine, Darth Mohawk is on extended loan from my brother, and Aleutian is on very temporary loan from Mauserkar98. Yes, I did get permission from all groups affiliated except for Nintendo/Sega/Sonic Team, mainly because I don't think they deserve my very valuable time of day.

--

Broadcast Seventeen(): Big

Accompanied by the blazing melody of his themesong, Darth Mohawk beamed towards the audience and exclaimed his loud greetings. "Welcome back, lesser mortals, to the _DARTH_ _MOHAWK_ _TALKSHOW_!"

He paused briefly to wait for the loud applause to die down. When it was reasonably quiet again, he continued. "On today's show, were going to be interviewing..." Mohawk squinted. "Umm... _oh, crap_..." He turned swiftly towards stage left. "Hey! Ken! _Who_ are we interviewing today?"

The professor stuck his head out from the edge of the curtain, frowning. "I'm sorry. It's Big."

"Big?" Mohawk made a face. "How can we be interviewing _him_? Hes a _RETARD_!"

Ken sighed. "Well, according to what we've heard from Nintendo, they're going to be making him smarter for _Sonic Chronicles_ when it comes out..."

"God, I _hope_ so, the guys needed it since freaking Sonic Adventure..." Mohawk paused to consider. "So, if they're going to be up-braining him in a few months, this might be the last time we meet the old Big?"

"We'll be making a record of how lame he used to be," Ken said flatly. "Should I send him out onstage?"

Darth Mohawk grinned. "Suuuuuurre... why dont we?"

As the chubby purple cat waddled out onto the stage, Mohawk sighed and shook his head sadly. _"The indecencies I put up with…_ have a seat, fat boy."

Big looked around cluelessly, as there were no other seats. "Uhh, where?" he asked in his dopey voice. Mohawk smirked and snapped his fingers; the chair suddenly fell down on top of him, knocking him to the ground.

Mohawk cackled. "Better yet, have a few!" He continued snapping his fingers, and more chairs fell down from the rafters: a parlor chair, an armchair, a full-size sofa, a porcelain toilet, and a giant golden throne. There was a sickly splintering of timbers as the whole mess of chairs, Big beneath them, broke through the surface of the stage, plummeting several feet to the ground beneath.

Ken poked his head back in from the side of the stage, a sickened expression on his face. "You are _sick_, brother..." He quickly retreated back offstage.

"Hey, they're gonna be remaking him, why the hell did we need the _old_ one?" Mohawk snapped back. "Anyway, now that weve attended to _that_, how about we interview someone else, huh?" He clapped his hands, and all of the furniture leapt back up into the rafters. The floor closed over, and the guests' chair fell back down in its proper place.

Ken reappeared on the side of the stage. "Like who? Youve already _done_ me, and heaven knows you can't exactly interview yourself..."

"Hey, I could try," Mohawk suggested.

The professor shook his head. "No, that's way too lame, even for you. Hmm..." Ken suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait! I've got an idea! Ill be right back!" The professor vanished in a flash of light, leaving Mohawk alone on the stage.

The Sith wannabe frowned. "I'm afraid to see what he has planned."

After a few moments, Professor Ken teleported back in. "Okay, I've secured all the paperwork, we've got the go-ahead for the filler!"

"The _what?_" Mohawk asked, looking confused. "Hey, wait, are you talking about that promotional thing youve been muttering about with the execs for the past few months? I thought we agreed, I'm not gonna be doing any stinking promotional for--"

"It's that or card tricks, my brother," Ken said flatly. "Fortunately for you, I plan ahead for these sorts of incidents, you should be _thanking _me for _saving your keister, again_!"

Darth Mohawk sighed. "Alright, alright, I'll do the promo, just don't make me interview any wussy little brats, cause heaven knows I already used my good gag offing Blubbo the Hutt over there!"

The professor chuckled. "Oh, no, Aleutian is anything but." He whirled around to face the audience. "We'll be doing something slightly different tonight, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "A special promotional for one of my partners in crime, my close associate Mauser-kar98. We would sincerely appreciate if you treated our guest today as well as you have all the others... and I assure you, he is much more interesting than some rotund feline. Straight from the pages of _Chance Encounters_, please welcome, Aleutian!" He then vanished in his signature flash of light.

Aleutian walked out onto the stage. He was a red echidna, like Knuckles except a little taller and much thinner-built. A long, narrow scar ran down his right cheek, and the front dreadlock on his left was little more than a stub. Aleutians expression was grim, but he still bleakly smiled and shook Mohawks hand when offered.

Darth Mohawk motioned to the guests' chair. "Have a seat, Aleutian." The echidna complied, plunking down haphazardly into it. "So, how old are you, again?"

Aleutian looked pensive for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure, myself, I havent really been countingY about twenty-one, maybe twenty-two."

"What do you do for a living, Aleutian?"

The echidna shrugged. "At the moment, not much, I'm just doing some training right now. I've done an awful lot of things in my life, though: I've crewed a submarine, I've worked for the underground resistance, and I've done some work as an operative too..."

"What kind of 'operative' are you talking about?" Mohawk asked. "Telephone? Elevator? Secret agent?"

"Private enterprise," Aleutian explained. "You know. Laying down the law to the people who don't stick around for the law to catch up."

Mohawk made a face. "Yeeaaahhh, sounds like 'official assassin' to me…" He paused. "_I want that job…_ but anyways, you do look really familiar, Aleutian. Are you related to anyone I know?

Aleutian chuckled softly. "I'm Knuckles older brother, if that means anything to you."

"You are? Oh, wow, I dont remember seeing _you_ on Angel Island during _Sonic 3_..."

"I left Angel Island when I was six years old, nearly got myself killed in the effort," Aleutian explained. "Havent been back since, although I intend to soon."

"Is that how you got those scars?" Mohawk asked.

Aleutian's short pause seemed to compound his emotionless face. The question struck something within him. "No, those came later."

Darth Mohawk frowned. "They look pretty painful..."

Aleutian pointed to the scar on his face. "This one didn't really hurt much, it's just a scratch." He tapped his stubbed dread. "_This_ one did."

"Why? I mean, I know your dreads help you glide in midair and all, but why would they--"

Ken interrupted from the side of the stage. "Echidna dreadlocks are a ventilation system for the body in hot weather, they cycle blood to the surface to cool it down. This of course means that Aleutian's dreads are packed full of blood vessels and clusters of nerves, which would make any damage to them incredibly uncomfortable as well as incredibly deadly, since Aleutian could easily bleed out through them."

"I didnt really want to know that, nerd boy..." Mohawk rolled his eyes. "So, Aleutian, I can see youre packing some heat there."

"Oh, you actually noticed?" Aleutian lifted his arm and pulled a semi-automatic pistol from a difficult-to-see shoulder holster. It had an unusual-looking cylindrical black extension to the barrel. "Yeah, this is a leftover from my last life."

"Last life? Oh, so you died?" Mohawk leaned back in his chair. "Does that mean you're undead?"

Aleutian smiled grimly. "No, but I suppose it isn't a bad analogy for me."

Mohawk nodded understandingly. "So, Aleutian, if youre Knuckles brother, are you ridiculously strong like he is?"

Aleutian shrugged. "I have _some_ of his powers, and I could certainly beat the stuffing out of _you_ if I wanted to, but no, I can't uproot trees and throw giant boulders like he can."

"Why not? Are you out of practice?"

"More or less, yes." Aleutian pulled forwards in his chair. "I've done some exercising with my father Locke recently, though, so I could probably try to pull your arms out of their sockets..."

Mohawk jumped back in his chair. "No, no, that won't be necessary!"

Aleutian smiled grimly and slouched back in his chair. "Such a pity, I've wanted to try it for a while."

"Just not when I'm around. Okay, so, what do you do for fun, Aleutian, when you're not shooting people up?"

"I read books, I visit the firing range, and I smash Robotniks cronies."

Mohawk frowned again. "Yeah, isn't everyone doing that these days? Seriously, though, none of that sounds very fun to me."

Aleutian shrugged. "I'm not a very fun guy. Never have been, never will be."

"Well, that's kind of sad." Mohawk paused briefly to straighten out his signature hairstyle with a comb, and then continued. "I may be devoted to evil but hey, even I do fun stuff every once in a while. So, do you have a girlfriend?"

Aleutian sighed; his gaze became distant. "Nah. Used to, but that was awhile ago, it's behind me now."

Darth Mohawk seemed to seize the opportunity. "_Ohhh_, one of these things, huh? Well, I'm sorry to say but you're the _third_ person who's said that to me, so I feel inclined to follow my precedent! What was her name?"

Aleutian looked at Mohawk oddly. "Why do you care?"

"Hey, it's for the interview." Mohawk turned to the audience. "You all want to know, right?"

The crowd screamed loud approval.

Aleutian sighed. "…Emi-la," he said hesitantly.

Mohawk smirked. "Okay, my experience shows that the only reason anybody cool ever looses a girlfriend is either because she had to be sacrificed to stop the bad guys or the bad guys simply did the evil deed themselves. The question is, therefore, did you kill her yourself or were you not capable of protecting her?"

Aleutian wrenched forwards in his chair, his eyes flaring. "_Excuse_ me?"

"Exactly what I said," Mohawk said. "Who killed her, you or someone else?"

The echidna glared daggers at Mohawk, crossing his arms. "How can you have the guts to ask a question like that?"

The rich entrepreneur motioned to the audience. "I'm just pleasing the crowds… and don't you know I love making guests miserable with their love lives?" Mohawk cackled. "Hey, it's the best part of the show!"

Aleutian crossed his arms. "I'm not playing your sick little game. Next question."

Mohawk snorted. "Darth Mohawk bends for no man _or_ echidna, except a man or echidna with enough stocks in his company… so, I guess I'm just going to have to read your mind and find out!" He extended his hands. "Don't worry, this won't hurt for very—"

Aleutian suddenly grabbed Darth Mohawk's hand and cranked it over sideways, pulling the blue-caped tycoon halfway out of his chair. He held Mohawk's arm in a deathgrip, threatening to snap his forearm in half. "How about we drop the crap and move on?" the echidna suggested with a menacing growl.

Mohawk grimaced as he attempted, and failed, to free his arm. "Nice… little trick," he grunted, struggling unsuccessfully. "Who taught you that?"

"Oh, a friend," Aleutian said casually. "I think this interview's over, since clearly all meaningful conversation has ceased."

"Yes, indeed." Mohawk suddenly grinned. "Now for the second part of our program… _me_ beating the stuffing out of _you_! RRRAARRGH!"

Mohawk reached over with his other hand and fired a bolt of Sith lightning at Aleutian. The echidna flinched just long enough to allow Mohawk to escape his grasp. The greedbag leapt to his feet and activated all three blades of his plasma sword. "Okay, Aleutian, let's see if your 'friend' taught you any _other_—"

Ken suddenly appeared from the side of the stage. "STOP!" he commanded, a look of horror on his face. "For god's sake, Mohawk, Mauser'll _kill_ me if we do anything to his favorite character!"

Mohawk cackled, waving his plasma sword around (Aleutian ducked to avoid being cut apart by it). "Don't worry, I'm just going to take a little off the top, I'm thinking from the shoulders up!"

Aleutian nimbly ducked and dodged as Mohawk attempted to cut him apart. "Hold still and die already, you little cretin!"

"You wanted to see another move?" Aleutian asked, sidestepping a thrust. "Here's a good one for you!"

The echidna maneuvered around Mohawk's thrashing sword, reached out and grabbed the front of his black robes. Aleutian swung Mohawk around in an arc, slamming him against the floor. The Sith-wannabee's sword cartwheeled away, nearly impaling several audience members.

"And here's _another_!" Aleutian grabbed Darth Mohawk by the cape, reeled backwards, and hurled him. Mohawk went screaming out through the ceiling of the room, off into the blue expanse of the sky.

Ken gave Aleutian an odd look. "Are you sure you needed to do that?"

Aleutian simply shrugged. "He _asked_ for it."

The professor sighed, pressing a hand to his head. "This was the seventeenth installment of the Darth Mohawk Talkshow. Join us again next time, whenever Mohawk touches down…"

The camera winked out.

--

Again, Aleutian is from Mauserkar98's "Aleutian Chronicles" series, look up "Chance Encounters" if you're interested in him. (I highly recommend the story, particularly if you're a fan of the Comics-- I never cared for Archie's universe, but I made an exception for this one!) Leave a review and see you all next time! Professor going, going, GONE!


	18. Chapter 18

Greetings, readers! Long time no see, huh? Yeaahhh, sorry about that, I've been pretty drained far as writing goes for a while, between work and school and all. Still, here's another DMT for you, and I think it's a pretty good one! Enjoy!

I don't own Black Doom, Sonic, etc. It'd be cool if I did, but I dunno, my brother probably wouldn't want a Commie in the house, huh?

--

**Broadcast Eighteen: Black Doom**

There was, as never before, an ominous silence in the Mohawk Corporations Studio. The building looked as though it had been abandoned for many years; the once well-trodden wooden stage was now covered in a copious layer of dust, the chairs once bristling with fans vacant and falling to disrepair. The posters that had once layered the walls had curled up at the edges and discolored, and the great lamps that once illuminated the entire studio were dark; the only light was the trickle of moonlight coming in through boarded windows. The curtains were drawn across the stage, ragged and fraying at the edges, untouched since the last day they had been pulled together.

Soft footsteps approached from the distance. There was a slow, solemn creak as the door at the end of the audience chamber slowly slid open. A long, dark figure emerged into the studio. The figure walked like a broken shadow, staggering unevenly on a cane towards the stage. _Tap-tap-clop, tap-tap-clop, tap-tap-clop._

After what seemed like an eternity of harried, misshapen paces, the dark shadow finally reached the stage. With effort as though with dying strength, the figure clambered up atop the stage. Slowly, he rose to his feet, turning around to face the empty rows of chairs.

For a moment, the figure solemnly stared, still as a statue. He exhaled softly, drew a deep breath, and spread his arms.

"_WEEEEELLLLCOME BAAAAACK!_"

There was an explosion of light and sound. Every window blew open, every lamp blazed with luminescent fire, and every door burst open, showering the whole studio premise in light. The familiar tune blared, blanketing out all other sounds, a beckoning call to the rest of existence.

Above it all came the one sound more hallowed—the cheering of happy spectators, as a mass of people rushed in from all the doors, filling up the audience gallery to the max. There was standing room only, and even that seemed to be thronged for.

The lone figure's form seemed to burst open, along with the curtains. Gone was the limp, blank vacancy, and in was the vibrancy of the one and only host, Darth Mohawk himself. The rich entrepreneur cackled, twisting his hands together in glee. He soon threw them open again. "Welcome back, one and all, to the DARTH MOHAWK TALKSHOOOOOWWWW!!"

The crowds screamed their uproarious approval. Mohawk stood still, smiling like a man mad with power, as though the whole world was captive in his grasp. Perhaps it was; with Darth Mohawk, one could never know of such things.

The audience soon quieted, to let their beloved host speak. For a single rare moment, Mohawk seemed quite sincere. "Thank you, each and every one of you. I suppose I must thank you lesser mortals for the small favor you have paid me. The evil zombie television committee wanted to take me off the air, and they darn well nearly succeeded. Even _I_ gave up on those guys, for god's sake, they're even loonier than I am! But you, my host of supporters, somehow managed to rally together and lobby for my return, and I have NO idea how you pulled it off but hell, I'm back on, so I don't give a cent!"

He laughed, his signature half-insane cackle. "Now, let's get back to our usual course of business, huh? For my valiant return, I have chosen to do an interview that's been a long time in coming. Now, I'm all up for supporting big, powerful supervillians—I mean, I do worship the guys from time to time—but this is one guy I just don't get. I mean, not only does he want to enslave all of humanity and turn us into chow for his repulsive offspring, but he wants to turn us all into communists! Alright, audience, you've just been promoted from "ingrates" to "comrades", 'cause here's the Spawn of Stalin, as I like to call him, _Red Doom_!"

There was a brilliant flash of black pulsating energy as the tall, menacing form of Black Doom emerged onstage. Darth Mohawk grinned; immediately, a giant banner on the back wall fell down. The banner pictured the Soviet flag, hammer and sickle, and Black Doom in a little black hat with a red star, with the words "FOR THE PEOPLE, COMRADE" emblazoned across the middle.

Black Doom growled, offended to the audience's loud laughter. "_Do not laugh in my presence, you pitiful humans!"_

"Oh, you must excuse us, Red Doom," Mohawk said, snickering. "That's how we treat commies around here!"

"_My name is BLACK DOOM, you worthless bag of viscera!"_ Black Doom retorted, his red eyes glowering.

Mohawk rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know, you think I should address you as my 'equal', since we're all 'comrades' or some crap like that. I'm very sorry to say, but I generally see socialists of any form as being better used as carpeting than rulers of planet Earth."

"_What nonsense are you talking about, you worthless human?_" Black Doom snapped. "_You are like the dust beneath me, so far below I can hardly make out your shape!_"

"Well, at least you have the decency to _say_ it, most of you Communist scum actually try selling that socialism scam to me," Darth Mohawk said stiffly.

"_Communist?_" Black Doom paused. He looked over his shoulder, towards the back wall of the stage and the banner. "_What is this foolishness? Some crude attempt at humor?_"

"Oh, no, this is quite cultured where I come from, Ken says so," Mohawk said gleefully.

Black Doom harrumphed. "_I despise human society and all of its tenets. I would never endorse these pathetic mockeries you call governments_."

Darth Mohawk nodded, smiling grimly. "Yeah, I always figured that Marx and the Communists came from space, anyone who thinks it's a good idea to give MY stuff to the peasantry can't possibly have been born on Earth."

The audience squealed in laughter, which only offended Black Doom more. "_I have degraded myself low enough to your level to explain my ways to such lesser creatures as you. Do not think that just because I have accepted your invitation I will accept your mockeries so politely._"

Darth Mohawk sighed. "Oh, boy, I bet you could write a bestseller on that, huh? Yeah, well, let's get on with the interview then, I'll get you a…" The greedbag paused, staring right at where Black Doom's feet would be, if he _had_ any. "Umm… yeeeaaahhh, on second though, maybe you wouldn't mind standing…"

Mohawk pulled out his cue cards from within his robes. "Okay, so, first question. This one is more of a physiology than a real interview question, but, uh, you seem to be suffering from the "evil wizard syndrome"… no legs, just head, shoulders and hands!"

Black Doom chuckled darkly. "_I, unlike you lesser beings, have no need for such things. What is the point of having legs that get tired and broken just by being lightly used?_"

Mohawk smiled sheepishly. "Well, you see, we humans haven't gotten that whole 'levitation' thing straight yet, so we generally refer to people without legs as "cripples"."

Black Doom crossed his arms. "_What pathetic people you are. You weaken yourself as a society by reversing your own process of natural selection…_"

"Hey, at least we don't try to brain control them like you commie scum do!" Mohawk snapped. "Yeesh… just _thinking_ about socialism gets my blood pressure up…" He smiled stupidly, and then flipped to the next card. "Next question—why are you such a Communist?"

Black Doom lurched forwards, as though resisting the urge to crush Mohawk's head with his hands. "_I have already told you, I have nothing to do with your pathetic human attempts at equality!_"

"No, no, no…" Mohawk moaned. "Wow, you are SUCH a twit... I'll never understand you Socialists as long as I live, how you wake up every morning and make it through your day. Let me just get out my Communist Check List here…" Mohawk reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil. "One—insistence on using the color 'red'… check. Two—constantly trying to convince people to help you for the good of their race… check. Three—constant attempted or otherwise colonization of other societies into your empire and system of government… check. Four—radical belief in the distribution of property 'evenly' so that only YOU actually HAVE any…" Mohawk threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "My god, do I need to spell it out for you? I mean, you've got the **feep**ing HAMMER and SICKLE dangling from your neck! How can you NOT be a Communist?"

"_I am not one of these pathetic 'Communists', you simpleton,_" Black Doom grumbled. "_You really are idiotic, even by human standards…_"

"Yeah, well, you want to overrun MY government and give MY empire—and my body—over to your little grubs so they can EAT them!" Mohawk looked down at his feet; one of Black Doom's little wormlike grubs had snuck out from backstage and was attempting to latch its little pointy teeth into his foot. "I mean, seriously, YEEECHHH!" The entrepreneur stomped up and down on the grub. The creature squeaked angrily and quickly began to retreat. Before it could crawl away, Mohawk gave it a solid kick, sending it flying offstage. "I am NOT going to be feeding your disgusting little grubs, thank you very much!"

"_It is for the good of your race, you insignificant cretin,_" Black Doom hissed. "_You humans will never amount to anything without me and the Black Arms…_"

"You think so, huh, big guy?" Darth Mohawk leapt up onto his feet and edged up to Black Doom as best as he could manage (the warlord still towered several feet above him). "Like ten thousand years of human progress—hell, like fifty thousand years in this age—means nothing to you? Lemme tell you something, pal, we humans have made more advancements, year for year, than any other race, YOURS included!"

Black Doom glared down at him. "_I can see it is futile to try to explain, as your human mind cannot grasp the level of our superiority. You have not earned your right to sentience, the way you have misused it in petty argument! The Black Arms can and will crush all of humanity, and there is nothing you or any of your comrades can do about it!_"

Mohawk suddenly became very quiet. "_Whaaaattt…_ did you just call me?" His voice immediately climbed. "I'm no comrade, I'm Darth Mohawk! I make oil barons feel like paupers in a prince's palace! And as far as I'm alive the only thing you and your Commie lot will be crushing are soda cans and your own sorry, depleted bank accounts!"

Black Doom stared at him blankly. "_Money means nothing to us, foolish human. It is just another sign of our superiority._"

"BLASPHEMER!" Mohawk roared. "_P'WN_ him!"

The Sith wannabe immediately whipped out his triple-bladed plasma sword and began wildly hacking at Black Doom, who teleported away. "_On guard, swift strike!_" he commanded, hurling an energy blast at Mohawk. The two began to viciously duke it out, Mohawk with his triblade and Sith Lightning, Black Doom with his energy attacks and big flaming meteors (which began tearing holes in the stage).

Professor Ken poked his head in from the side, and immediately cringed. "Oh, boy, not again!" He ducked backstage to fetch his firearms. "This has been DMT, broadcast eighteen! We hope you've enjoyed the show!"

"_Come, Black Bull! Burn this stage to ashes!_"

A whole wall of the studio caved in as the giant blubbery worm-creature emerged and began spitting fireballs everywhere, causing the audience to panic.

From offstage, Ken began issuing commands to his garrison. "Tranter, you take the left, set up those Triple Sixes! Jade, go get MetaKnight and see if you can take out the Commie!" He reappeared on the edge of the stage. "If anything's left after this battle, we'll see you again next—"

Black Doom hurled a meteor at the camera, and it faded out in a burst of static.

--

You like? Then tell me about it, I might write more! See you all later, professor out!


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